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AND 



ITS THOUGHTS, 



IN 



SKETCHES, FRAGMENTS, AND ESSAYS ; 



BY SARAH WENTWORTH MORTON, 

OE DORCHESTER, MASS. 



" I stood among them, but not of them — 

" In a shroud of thoughts, which were not their thoughts. 



v 

BOSTON : 

WELLS AND LILLY— COURT-STREET. 



1823. 



7) 7 M ° 



I 



Contents* 



Thought Page 

7 Approbation, Self - - - 4 

33 Affliction, Severe - - - - 19 

75 Agreeableness .... 46 

79 Accusation - - - - - 47 

86 Advice ----- 51 

87 Advice - - - - - - 52 

88 Advice ----- ib. 
106 Attraction - - - - - 67 
109 Adversity - - - - 69 

112 Avarice - - - - - - 71 

117 Anger, Indulged - - - 91 

118 Anger, Furious - - - - - ib. 

B 

9 Busy Bodies 5 

38 Beneficent - - - - - 23 

39 Beneficence, Rewards of - - ib. 
61 Beauty and Youth - - - - 39 

108 Beauty and Love 69 

113 Benefits not Lost - - - - 72 



11 Conscience - - - - - 6 

12 Conscience - - - - - ib„ 
22 Creditor and Debtor - - - -11 



¥ 



/ 



IV CONTENTS. 

Thought Page 

24 Credulity - - - - - 15 

58 Calumny - - - - - 38 

59 Calumny ----- ib. 

60 Calumny - ^ - - - ib. 

76 Cunning ----- 46 

77 Cunning ------ ib. 

80 Civility ----- 47 

81 Civility - - - - - - 48 

82 Civility ----- ib. 
100 Complaining - - - - - 63 



D 



1 



1 Disappointment - 

4 Deceit 3 

22 Debtor and Creditor - - - - 1 1 

55 Detraction 36 

57 Defamation --•■-.- - 37 

65 Debts - - - - - 41 

66 Decision - - - - - 42 
89 Dislike ----- 53 
94 Disdain and Detest - - - - 57 
98 Displeasing - - - - 59 

114 Duplicity ----- 95 

E 

34 Enemies and Friends 22' 

37 Enemies - - - - - 23 

44 Extremes, or Hope and Despair - - 26 

46 Enthusiasm - - - - - 28 

47 Enthusiasm - - - - 29 

68 Envy - - - - - - 42 

69 Envy ----- 43 

70 Envy - - - - - - ib. 

71 Envy - - - - 44 

72 Envy - - - - - - ib. 

73 Evil and Good 45 



CONTENTS. 

Thought 

83 Experience 

84 Experience - 

93 Esteem and Respect 
99 Extraordinary and Ordinary 
115 Expectation 



F 



Page 

- 50 
51 

- 56 
61 

- 194 



26 Flattery - - - - 17 

30 Fortune - - - - - 19 

34 Friends and Enemies 22 

35 Friendship - - - - - ib. 

36 Friends ----- ib. 
64 Friendship and Fidelity or Policy and Prudence - 40 

111 Fault Finding - - - 71 

118 Furious Anger - - - - - 91 

G 



2 Good and 111 Luck 
40 Gratitude, True 
73 Good and Evil 
96 Gratitude and Generosity 



2 
24 
45 
58 



H 



103 Happiness 

104 Happiness and Pleasure 
116 Hyperbole 



65 
ib. 
88 



13 Idleness and Industry - 

14 Idleness 
19 Injustice 
23 Imprudence 
25 Imputation 

102 Interesting and Interest 

118 Indulged Anger 



- / 



7 
ib. 
10 
15 
16 
64 
91 



yl CONTENTS. 



£age 

Thought 9 

18 Judgment and Opinion 

101 Jesting 



K 



6 Knowledge, Self 
50 Kindness 



108 Love and Beauty 

M 

20 Misanthropy 
31 Misfortune 

41 Mercy 

42 Mercy 

67 Moderation 

74 Malediction 

85 Mockery and Malice - 

95 Meanness and Repulsion 

N 

3 Nicety 

O 



64 



4 

32 



6$ 



10 
19 

24 
ib. 
42 
45 
51 
57 



9 
28 



18 Opinion and Judgment 

45 Opinions 

78 Ourselves 

99 Ordinary and Extraordinary 



10 Plain Speaker 



CONTENTS. 



Vll 



Thought 

15 Prudence, Worldly 

16 Prudence, Selfish 

17 Proper Prudence 

27 Prevarication ... 

28 Perfection - - *■ 

29 Pretension - 

32 Prosperity - 

64 Policy and Prudence or Friendship and Fidelity 

91 Patience - 

92 Patience - 

104 Pleasure and Happiness 



90 Quarrels 



Q 



R 



39 Rewards of Beneficence 
93 Respect and Esteem 
95 Repulsion and Meanness 

110 Religious Trust - 

115 Reserve, Silent 



Page 

7 

8 

8 

17 

18 

ib. 

19 

40 

54 

55 

65 



53 



23 
56 
57 
69 
84 



6 Self-Knowledge 

7 Self-Approbation 

8 Self-Sufficiency - 
10 Speakers, Plain 
16 Selfish Prudence 

21 Self-Love and Social 
33 Severe Affliction 
49 Suspicion - 

51 Success 

52 Success 
56 Slander 

115 Silent Reserve 



4 
ib. 
ib. 
5 
8 
10 
19 
3l 
33 
34 
37 
84 



Vll* CONTENTS. 



Thought Page 

40 True Gratitude - - - -24 

53 Temperament 35 

54 Temperament - - - ib. 
61 Tomorrow and Yesterday - - 39 

105 Tranquillity - - - - 66 

110 Trust Religious 69 

121 Truth and Trust - - - 95 

U 

114 Utility --*.■■- 73 



5 Vanity - - - 4 

43 Virtue and Vice 25 

W 

15 Worldly Prudence - - 7 

48 Wisdom 29 

62 Wit and its Combinations - - -39 

97 Words to the Wise - - - 58 

107 Women - - - - 68 



61 Yesterday and Tomorrow 39 

63 Youth and Beauty - - - 40 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



PJ1R T II. 



The World and its Ways 
The Social World 
The Selfish World 
The Trifling World 
The Vain World - 
The World at Large 



PARADOXES. 



Paradox 

1 Necessity 

2 Erring Mortals 

3 Love and Glory 

4 Zeal 

5 Quiet - 

6 Love of Country 



ESSAYS, 



Essay 



1 Adversity 

2 Prosperity * 

3 The Passions - 

4 Children - 

5 Pleased and Pleasing 

6 Rights and Wrongs 

7 What is true Principle ? 

8 Mutability 

9 Piety, Filial and faithful - 

10 Of Youthful Ingenuousness and Obduracy 

B 



Page 
111 

115 
116 
118 
123 

129 



97 

98 

99 

100 

101 

102 



143 
145 
147 
151 
153 
15b 
160 
164 
166 
168 



1- CONTENTS-. 

Essay Page 

11 Politeness - , * - 169 

12 Time and Truth * - - 173 

13 Wisdom and Wickedness r - - 174 

14 Woman - - - 177 

15 Marriage - - - - 179 

16 Love and Likeness - - - 184 

17 Physiognomy - - - - 186 

18 On the Union of Opposite Propensities - 190 

19 Beauty and Eloquence - - - 192 

20 Age - - - 195 

21 Town and Country - - - 196 

22 Servants - - - 199 

23 In what does Colloquial Eloquence consist ? - 203 

24 Beauty and Bravery - - - 212 

25 The Sexes - - - - 219 

26 Prince Eugene of Savoy - - 221 

27 Christianity - - - - 222 

28 Polemick Controversy - - 223 

29 Lessons of Life - - 224 

30 This Mortal shall put on Immortality r 225 

POETRY. 

Rustic Lines on returning to the beloved Hamlet at Dor- 
chester - xix 
Ode to Mercy - r - 12 
Poverty - - - - 20 
Souvenir - - - - 25 
To George Henry Apthorp, Esq. - - 27 
To the Mansion of my Ancestors, on seeing it occupied 

as a Banking Establishment 30 

To the Breath of Kindness - T 32 

Lines to a celebrated historical Painter - 49 

Prayer to Patience - - - 55 

Character from Life 59 

Maudla - - - - 61 

Lines to John C. Warren, M.D. - z 6^ 



CONTENTS. XI 



Page 
Stanzas to Charlotte Morton, Bonne et Belle" - 67 
Stanzas to Disappointment 70 
To Mr. Stuart - - - - 74 
Inscription 76 
Song — written at the Woodlands, the Seat of William Ha- 
milton, Esq. on the Schuylkill - 77 
Inscription for a Sarcophagus, upon a little Island, be- 
longing to the Proprietor of the Woodlands - 78 
Inscription Second, for a Rustic Seat on the same Island 78 
Philadelphia, an Elegy 79 
Stanzas to the Honorable Robert Liston - 83 
Batavia, an Elegy 84 
Elegy to the Memory of Maria Antoinette - - 85 
Song of the Runic Bard 89 
Ode to the Element of Fire - - 93 
Ode to Time - - - 105 
Ode to Time - - - - 107 
Disinterestedness, a Fable, imitated from the French 

Prose - - - H7 

Lines found in a Lady's Glove - - - 119 

Response to the same - - - 120 
To Lewis Hervey, Esq. Secretary of the Presidency at 

Washington City - - - 121 

Injunction to D. W. L. - - - - 123 

CHARACTERISTIC SONGS. 

Song 1st — Successful Lover - - -, 125 
Song 2d— Dejected Wife - 126 
To a Beautiful Infant - - - 127 
To a Lady Dancing - - - - 127 
Impromptu - - - - 128 
Impromptu 2d— Upon hearing an elevated Individual ac- 
cused of Pride, &c. &c. - - 128 
Simple Address to My Home - - 133 
Lines to the Scion of the Tulip Tree, shading the rural 

Home of my Ancestors - - - 134 

Epistle to Theophilus Parsons - - 135 



XII CONTENTS. 

Page 

To the Honorable John Jay - - - 139 

To His Excellency John Jay - - 140 

Ode for Music - • - - 137 

Tributary Lines - - - - 138 

Sonnet to Major General Lincoln - - 141 

Sonnet to the Midnight Moon - - - 141 

Sonnet to Adversity * - - 144 

Stanzas to Aaron Burr - - - - 150 

Lines to Mrs. Montgomery - - - 171 

Stanzas to the Orator of the Century - - 176 

Stanzas to a recently united Husband - - 182 

Conciliation - - . - 183 

Inscription - - - - 185 

Stanzas to the retired Patriot John Adams - - 194 

Stanzas - - - - - 198 

The African Chief - - - - 201 

Characteristic Portrait - - - 210 

Lines to Gilbert Stuart, Esq. - - - 213 

Prophecy - - - - 214 

Naval Song - - - - - 215 

Dirge ----- 216 

Ode Inscribed to Major General Brown - - 217 
Song for the Public Celebration of the National Peace 218 

The Star-Gazer - - - 219 

Mortal and Immortal ... 232 
The Sabbath at a distance from my Home and my Church 234 

To a beloved and revered Minister of the Christian 

Church - - - - 235 

Hymn, Re-animation - - - 237 

Dedication Hymn ... - 238 

Hymn, Sorrow and Supplication - - 239 

Hymn, Praise and Prayer to God - 240 

Hymn, Glory to God - - 241 

Christmas Sacramental Hymn - 242 

Second Sacramental Hymn - 243 

Stanzas to a young Priest of the Roman Catholic 

Church - - - - 244 



CONTENTS. XH1 



ELEGIAC LINES, 



Page 



Monody to the Young Heroes who fought and fell 
under General St. Clair, at the Miami of the 
Lakes - - - 249 
Epitaph on Dr. Andre Carente - 351 
To the Memory of Mrs. A. Jones - - 252 
To the Memory of the Hon. Mr. Bowdoin - - 253 
To the Memory of Julia. Aged 14 years - 255 
Memento for my Infant - 255 
Monody to the Memory of General Henry Knox - 256 
Recollections, to the Memory of Theophilus Parsons - 258 
Stanzas, upon seeing an imperfect Sketch of the lament- 
ed Professor McKean - 259 
Lamentations of an Unfortunate Mother - - 260 
Stanzas, occasioned by the Question of a Friend - 263 
Stanzas, on a Single Drop of Rain - - 222 
Stanzas, enclosing the Beautiful Ringlets of my Son 264 
Apostrophe to the Memory of my Beloved Daughter - 264 
Lines to those who have said you are tranquil - 265 
Invocation to the Shades of my Ancestors, Wentworth 

andApthorp - - . _ 267 



RESPONSE COURTEOUS 

TO THE QUESTION IMPERIOUS, 



BY WAY OE 



flEtftroVftctfotf* 



JMYD what are your thoughts like ? or what 
are they worth ? exclaims the gentle reader, per- 
haps the ungentle critic, possibly the unsparing sa- 
tirist ! 

Their worth it becomes not the author to ap- 
preciate ; but for their likeness, truly they resem- 
ble you, and your friend, and his acquaintance : 
many of them have possibly travelled over the 
whole fair field of your own mind, though you 
sought not to give the poor things utterance, and 
still less had you, like the present writer, the te- 
merity to throw them en dishabille before the glar- 
ing eye of public remark. 

She indeed doubted ere she dared, and without 
the usual miserable subterfuge of pressing friends 
and officious advisers, has, at last, pulled down all 
responsibility upon her own luckless head — 



XVI INTRODUCTION. 

Yet neither deprecating censure, nor supplicating 
applause, but simply awaiting the award of that 
truth which can alone honour, and the result of 
that enquiry, which may possibly justify. 

Should the question arise, " Are these sketches 
indeed personal ?" the author is bound to reply, that 
as the inferences of life, are only to be deduced 
from the living, every observation here drawn, has 
been so deduced, and is thus distributed — personal 
— without personality — portraits designed — but not 
designing — reflections — by which no individual is 
positively or actually reflected upon. 

In further apology for an offering thus avowed- 
ly made up of Sketches and Fragments, the author 
properly explains, that rustic and recluse, the trees 
of the hamlet have been her most instructive com- 
panions, and while that earth so beautifully sha- 
dowed by these, gave strength, activity, and em- 
ployment to the limbs, and to the understanding; 
she laboured in her vocation, not with the pre- 
tension of a theoretic, and yet less with that cf a 
scientific Botanist, but simply Avec & amour des 
Jardins, and in burying care, has reaped content- 
ment sufficient to console the heart for its worldly 
losses, and leavings ; until the love of rural scenery 
became a real passion — probably the only passion, 
in which it is possible to indulge, without censure 
or self-reproach. 

Thus occupied — with neither leisure, nor dispo- 
sition, nor capacity to write a Book, there has al- 
ways been opportunity to pen a thought, or to pen* 
cil a recollection. 



xvu 

But as it is easier to design than to discern, and 
more usual to attempt every thing, than to succeed 
in any thing, the author has felt and known, that 
the imperfect and the incomplete — possibly the 
features of ignorant deformity, are to be placed 
before critical eyes, habituated to, and of course, 
interested only in, the finished and the beautiful. 

Yet it may be confessed, the present is merely 
an experiment, unadvised, and without promise, 
consequently not liable to be the victim of dis- 
appointment. 

Truly the earth is already encumbered with for- 
gotten books ; but as there is always room for the 
dying and the dead, the present attempt cannot 
prove an irremediable evil, unless made such by the 
individual herself, through weak pretension or viler 
vanity ; two sentiments, if sentiments they are, in 
which she does not dare to indulge. 

Finally, and most feelingly, the author presumes 
to observe, that could the right of expectation, or 
of hope, exist for her, in any thing, that right 
would rest on the wish of being morally useful, in 
the desire of meeting merited approbation. 

S, W. M. 

Dorchester, 1832. 



a- 



RUSTIC LINES, 

SJPOft RETURNING TO THE BELOVED HAMLET OF DORCHESTER 



Home of my heart ! thy tranquil scene 
Of plains — in early herbage green ; 
Thy near hills bordering bold and wild, 
The temper of thy breezes mild — 
Thine ocean blue as beauty's eye, 
And calm as clouds bright hovering nigh, 
Ere twilight breathes her parting sigh. 

Or — the brisk gale, when mid-day clear 
Wakes the first floweret of the year, 
Bending as if that gale to greet, 
Like captive at her conqueror's feet ! 
While the tossed waves exulting seem 
To love the sun's approaching beam.— 
These all are mine — ere the young day 
Warms in the bashful blush of May. 

Thy vernal bird, with song of glee, 

Recalls thy fugitive to thee ; 

The rustic tones of truth to find, 

The smile, that speaks the welcome kind ; 

Or the quick eye, which seems to say, 

The steps of labour must not stay ; 

To all I come— for all are dear 

To her, whose whole of life rests here- 

Sweet Hamlet ! since no wrong invades 
The quiet of thine elm-row shades, 



XX 



I come — beneath those shades to rest, 
And in that quiet to be blest. 

Sweet Hamlet ! to thy breast of bloom 
In singleness of soul I come ! 
The aching of my cares to hide, 
And dead to all that breathe beside. 
For in thy bounties thou art kind, 
To the world-wearied nerve of mind ; 
And most to her who dares not own, 
How much she feels in crowds alone. 



THOUGHTS. 

N°. I. 



WHAT IS DISAPPOINTMENT ? 

Jcjven that, at whose approach we exclaim and la- 
ment and suffer, as if individually the most afflicted 
among mortals, — and yet, how few are there of 
those bitter disappointments, which have not by their 
termination, or in their effect* become benefits ? 

Were we permitted to unfold and read every leaf 
in the book of fate and futurity, how often should 
we bless our disappointments — how frequently won- 
der at the fervent solicitude of past wishes ! 

Marriage prevented* fortune lost, hope frustrat- 
ed — those disasters, and even that death, at whose 
knell misery came ; these, frowning and cruel as 
they seemed, may all, or some of them, have res- 
cued the heart from deeper sorrow — more despe- 
rate distress. 

Who is there among the mature of age, and of 
understanding, but can recal to his thoughts some 
blessing, the offspring of disappointment — -some sop* 
row, the child of gratified inclination ? 

1 



Unless we were all-wise and all-good; that is, 
without selfishness ; judgment in our own cause is 
worth nothing; discontent, of no possible avail. 

If Fortitude be a virtue, Resignation a bless- 
ing, Patience a necessity, Disappointment, some- 
times a trial, and always a lesson, is frequently a 
boon, which, ugly and venomous, bears yet a pre- 
cious jewel in its head ! 

2. 

Good Luck and III Luck, are terms relative, or 
comparative ; the one usually uncertain, the other 
seldom irretrievable, for the wheel of fortune is so con- 
tinually in mutation, and rotation, that every spoke, 
and felloe and nave, has its turn and its triumph, its 
elevation and its depression ; and as surely, this same 
wheel of fortune will neither rust, nor rest on its 
axle, to enhance the hope, or to deepen the des- 
pair of any breathing creature. Why then should 
any one exult at the promise or in the possession 
of that Good Luck, so versatile and mortal? or 
why be terrified at the threat of those frowning dis- 
asters, which have not even an earthly durability? 

And is it not as wicked as unwise, while adoring 
the high and golden idol of prosperity, to trample 
on the bruised and broken victim of III Luck and 
disappointment ? 

3. 

Properly speaking, Nicety is refinement ; a prin- 
ciple that accords and combines with superiority ; 



in the fine arts, expressing the highest finish of ex- 
quisite workmanship ; in habits, manners, and mor- 
als, implying order, delicacy, and purity. 

But Nicety is a luxury, and, like other luxuries, 
most frequently appertains to wealth, station, ele- 
gance, and good education ; for neglected children 
are seen to delight in grovelling, and savages are sel- 
dom averse to the degradation of filth. 

Usually, the more polished are the most nice, and 
yet the extreme of excessive Nicety may degene- 
rate into imperious fastidiousness, or it may be refin- 
ed into listless affectation, when, having authority, it 
becomes fault-finding idleness, making exaction, and 
refusing exertion. 

And which is there of the higher principles, or 
blessings, when extended and extorted beyond the 
proper line of moral demarkation, that does not as- 
sume a different character, and make and merit for 
itself a less righteous appellative. 

Even as extremes and excess, bringing injury to 
virtue, are the sure destroyers of happiness. 

4, 

We are seldom able to impose on the world, for 
the eyes of that are always open and vigilant^ 
and the ear and heart prompt to discriminate, and 
willing to detect : hence the wiles of Deceit may 
be compared to traps laid over quicksands, in which 
the contriver is often the first to be fatally caught. 

Let him therefore, who to the vileness of Deceit, 
gives the imposing characteristic of ingenuity or 



address, ascribing the treasons of artifice to the as- 
cendency of genius, learn, that the wilful deceiver, 
like the inventor of the brazen brute of Phalaris, is 
more frequently the victim of his own crafty de- 
signs, than the builder up of good fortune, or the 
architect of more honourable fame. 

5- 

Excessive Vanity sometimes impels to insolence, 
more often, in self-complacency, putting on the bor- 
rowed garb of good nature, as if solicitous for pop- 
ular applause, it succeeds in having its principles 
mistaken, and its person the object of commenda- 
tion or of apology. 

6. 

There exists in every thinking mind, a certain 
conscious Knowledge of itself, which, under any pos- 
sible occurrence, constitutes either its punishment, 
or its consolation. 

7. 

How often is self-love mistaken by ourselves for 
Self-Approbation. Adversity, which never flatters, 
corrects this error, and bringing humility to our aid, 
enables us to realize many virtues ; meriting, rather 
than making, the approval of conscience. 

8. 

Is it not true, that those who are held in the least 
possible estimation by others, have, for the most 



5 

part, the greatest delight in themselves ? So true, 
that we may rest assured, excessive Self-Commenda- 
tion will have the accompaniment of extraordinary 
demerit, even as humility is the guide and guardian 
of every virtue. 

9. 

Of the world, and its little ways, there may be 
seen industrious minds, in Busy Bodies, whose sole 
occupation is that of transmitting evil reports from 
individual to individual. 

While mingling drops of honey with the poison 
thus conveyed, like the Charlatan, they sometimes 
pretend to cure what they wound, and often profess 
to save, even while they kill. 

Such are of the little world ; trust them not, for 
their tongue is a two-edged sword, and the deceit of 
their words, like the fabled song of the Syren, and 
the tear of the crocodile, fore-runs destruction. 

The industry of such minds is malice, and the bu- 
siness mischief; while of their mercies, the tender- 
ness is cruelty, and the end, moral misery. 

10. 

Most near in faith and affinity to the Busy body, 
is the Plain Speaker — a being of coarse feelings, 
rude utterance, and boastful integrity. Could the 
scorn of a sarcasm kill, these would have slain their 
thousands. The music of such is usually upon a 
sharp note, and has no symphony. 



In their vocabulary, presumption means sincerity ; 
impertinence is honesty ; careless cutting allusion, 
right, and righteousness. And yet the dark den of 
such hearts more usually encloses the tiger than the 
serpent brood. 

11. 

Conscience, simply understanding that quick sense 
of committed errors, is the exclusive attribute of 
honest minds, fallible but not wicked; a principle 
existing for the correction of faults, rather than for 
the reformation of crimes. 

The man who has a heart to perpetrate atroci- 
ties, will usually be found with a Conscience harden- 
ed, or abandoned in braving the consequences. 

12. 

How many words have been lavished and wasted 
on the arbitrary and inevitable power of Conscience ! 
How few thoughts expended upon the thousand 
ways of averting its reproaches, and of discarding 
its mandates! 

Vanity counteracts it by boasting, or subverts by 
pretences. Pride overcomes it with authority, or re- 
pels in defiance. Mistake calls to his aid the poor 
plea of necessity ; and malice, cold deliberating mal- 
ice, flings off the merited blame, and casts away the 
committed evil on another. 

While good sense, better principle, and true reli- 
gion, detecting the real aggressor, only supplicate 



mercy for our very selves, as frail mortals, or as mis- 
erable sinners. 

13. 

Idleness is, in cause and effect, mental and moral 
degradation. 

Industry without utility to others, may be termed 
the most pernicious sort of Idleness ; for thieves are 
usually so industrious, that with less labour they 
might obtain an honest subsistence. 

Also, the vain, the mischievous, the irascible, and 
the selfish, are, like the great tormentor, seldom at 
rest. 

Useful Industry is cheerful, kind, active, vigilant 
and regardful, blessed and blessing — the tree that it 
plants, will grow, and bloom, and ripen ; bringing forth 
fruits in season, for the beneficent hand and the feel- 
ing heart of the patient and attentive cultivator. 

14. 

Idleness, scorning utility, and coveting enjoyment, 
finds weariness, awakens discord, and invites enmity : 
met by punishment if not followed by repentance. 

15. 

What is generally termed prudence, is seldom oth- 
er than a cowardly discretion or a vile selfishness. 
The Worldly Prudent avoids the unhappy; and 
is sometimes seen to tread upon the fallen, who, he 
expected, would rise no more. 



o 



16. 

When, by the presence of one, whom we are will- 
ing to believe our friend, the heart is warmed and 
opened to unfold its anxieties, or to unburden its sor- 
rows— 

When we look for reciprocation, expect sympa- 
thy, and hope for kind unreserved counsel ; how 
cold does the hand of Selfish Prudence strike to 
the soul, with a look between cunning and distrust 
A silence unmoved, and unparticipating, a discretion^ 
which seems to say, I oppose my wisdom to your 
folly — my safety to your generosity — my foresight 
to your guardless confidence. 

17. 

It is Proper Prudence to regulate ourselves, by 
restraining the disposition to excess of every kind, in 
moral feelings, as in personal conduct. 

It is also Proper Prudence to avoid injuring an- 
other, in word, or by deed — such forbearance being 
a species of self preservation; since every human 
being is, like ourselves, armed by nature with some 
shield of defence, or some weapon of offence, which 
will surely be turned and returned upon the assailant. 

It is Proper Prudence, when happy in the pres- 
ent, not to be unmindful of the future nor forgetful 
of the past ; neither rapacious of vain pleasure, nor 
disdainful of true enjoyment ; to reflect, and resolve 
as to the best method of living every day of our 
lives, fixing our election either upon the high zest 



of worldly pleasure, and its alternations of amuses 
ment, or upon the more truly Epicurean principles 
of virtue, mental delight, and rural retirement. 

It is equally prudent, as much as in us lies, to pre- 
serve the health of the body and the mind, as un- 
der disease to submit to the kindest and wisest phy- 
sician, for the cure of either, or of both ; also, with 
the blessing of a sound mind in a sane body, to 
have no imaginary wants, but to pass honestly, and 
as far as is possible, happily, through the safe path of 
propriety, guarded and guided by that Proper Pru- 
dence which is not selfish, nor worldly, but in esti- 
mating others, still respecting ourselves, 

18. 

Hasty Opinion differs from Matured Judgment, 
as the passionate eloquence of the advocate differs 
from the serene wisdom of the judge. The one in 
delighting, may impose and mislead, the other, even 
in disappointing, will convince and instruct. 

Mature Judgment may be said to display the 
straight line of the arrow, without the arrow's im- 
petuosity. Hasty Opinion, like the torrent in rush- 
ing onward, frequently turns aside bewildered, and 
lost through intricacies. Mature Judgment is cool, 
and like truth, immutable. Hasty Opinion, warm, 
and fluctuating, though it fasten, like the vulture 
upon his prey, loses its hold, and sinks down into 
uncertainty. 

Then, were it not better, maturely to pass judg- 
ment on our own individual errors, than to form and 
2 



10 

force hasty opinions derogating from the merits of 
another. 

19. 

Whence is it that a man is seldom able to relin- 
quish his animosity against those whom he has injur- 
ed ? Is not this factitious resentment a kind of com- 
promise with the uneasiness of his sensations ? — An 
effort to persuade his Injustice that the victim is the 
aggressor ? 

20. 

No man becomes entirely a Misanthrope, until he 
has merited ignominy. Even as no vicious char- 
acter, resting on human depravity, imagines any 
one living to be more intentionally virtuous than 
himself; hence look for distrust and expect cen- 
sure, exactly apportioned to the criminality of your 
accuser. 

21. 

What a credulous ear "and willing investigation do 
we lend to every passing report, which bears hard 
upon the conduct of another ! 

How incredulous and indignant of all that tends 
to disclose mistakes or misconduct of our own ! 

In this, Self-love and Social are surely not the 
same. 

Perhaps it is morally impossible to acquire the 
graces of philanthropy, and the virtues of hu- 
mility, without some portion of individual suffering; 



11 

for adversity, drawing aside the veil of Self-love, 
which ever hides us from ourselves, at the same 
time casts a shadow over those vertical sun-beams 
of fortune, which dazzle and distort, when we see or 
suspect the motives of another. 

Adversity, in the correction of error, thus tem- 
pering extremes, shows the world its value and its 
votaries as they really are, and our own heart as it 
truly is. 

22. 

Is it not true, that the busy world of mankind 
feel, without avowing an equal abhorrence of those 
opposite tormentors, the Debtor and the Creditor. 
The one as a slave, whom it is willing to oppress, 
the other as a tyrant, whom it dare not irritate, and 
is ashamed to accuse. 

If the vulgarly imperious dun, with a lordly de- 
mand of restitution, be hateful to the man of many 
w r ants and few means, in no less degree is that Debt- 
or, by whose penury the necessitous Creditor suf- 
ers ; or through whose negligence he is degraded j 
while on this occasion, contrary to most others, 
the oppressed may be considered the aggressor, as 
honest industrious misfortune is seldom permitted to 
remain the uncommiserated and unrelieved victim 
of any persecution whatever. 



12 



ODE TO MERCY. 



Bless'd Power ! first attribute of heaven ! 
Whose melting eye, 
And accent bland ; 
Whose gentle sigh, 
And open hand, 
Were to the best beloved of mortals given ;-— 
Whither, ah whither, hast thou fled, 
On what soft bosom rests thine angel head ; 
Or to what distant wilds are thy mild graces driven? 

Thou art not in the courtly smile, 

Which silken Gratio wears, 
Whose softness flatters to beguile, 
Whose kindness but in voice is known, 
Round whose dark mind's degraded throne, 
Falsehood her doubly forked siing with serpent venom bears. 

Still further from the rough disdain, 

Of rich Lorenzo 1 s pride ; 
He who in trifling arts excels — 
Critic in flies, in flowers, in shells ; 
Which o'er his hollow heart preside ; — 
And shut his marble breast to sorrow's moving strain. 

Nor art thou with the vaunting tongue. 
Which in misconduct's tortured ear, 
Proclaims each pity^giving tear, 
Which virtue's sorrowing heart bestows. 
When folly leads her train of woes, 
4nd scorpions lash the voluntary wrong. 
Oh shade of Howard ! still to thee. 



13 



Meek offspring of humility,* 
The living muses wake their grateful strain— 
Howard, to sorrow se'f-resignedj 
Whose firm, undaunted, sleepless mind, 
Embraced the extended family of pain ; 
For that to heaven he raised the expiring eye, 
With that he deigned to live, — for that he dared to die.} 

Does the hard earth no living sipot disclose, 
Where pity's weeping floweret blows, 
Pouring her balm of blessedness around, 
Scenes where the sick in heart, and lost of hope are found ? 

Philos,§ to thee unwearied mercy kneels, 

Not for thy rank, nor wealth, thy deeds alone ! 

Deeds which the powerful heart of misery feels, 
Deeds of thy secret soul she calls her own ; 

Deeds at whose touch the prison'd debtor smiles, 
His dim eye lighted by his fervid prayer ; 

The blessing, which his agony beguiles, 
Is poured on heaven for him whose great reward is there. 

* That this true philanthropist was among the most humble and self-accu- 
sing of mankind, is evinced in his letter, written in positive rejection of the 
statue, that had been ordered for the purpose of commemorating his inestima- 
ma.ble services ; in which letter, disclaiming all merit, he deprecates every 
tribute. 

t " Self Resigned." 

Howard was a man of sorrows, and thence devoted and sacrificed his life 
to the children of suffering. 

^ " With that he deigned to live,— for that he dared to die" 
Howard died of a fever, the infection of which was communicated by a 
dying individual, who requested to see him, and in complying with that re- 
quest his own life was sacrificed. 

§ William Phillips, Lieutenant Governor of Massachusetts, at once 
modest and munificent, pre-eminent among the first in every deed of mercy. 
This true Samaritan some time since released all the debtors under close con- 
finement within the walls of the County prison, by paying the amount of de- 
mands brought individually against them, by merciless or necessitous cred- 
itorso 



14 



Angel of earth ! whose steps in silence move, 

While scattered bounty through their pathway blooms. 
More grateful are the breathings of thy love, 
Than all the generous summer's rich perfumes, 
These to the sense luxurious sweets impart ; 
Those come like incense to the fainting heart. 

Mercy Divine ! — though grief severe 
May rest her fang of misery here. 
To me thy tearful smile will seem, 
Like the young morning's dewy beam 
Cheering the gloom with promise mild, 
A foliage mid the desert wild,* 
A bark the desperate wretch to save, 
Who struggles with the stronger wave ; 
A light like that the apostle knew, 
When back his prison's portals flew, 
And the soft touch of angels lay 
On chains, that touch dissolved away, 
A blessing sought, and sent and shed 
On earth — when earthly hope is dead. 

Beloved of Heaven ! thy healing aid impart. 
To charm and change the deeply venomed heart, 
Give the fix'd bosom, cold as hardest steel, 
To move, to warm, to soften, and to feel. 
Rewarding each awaken'd sense 
With the rich blessing of thy own Benevolence. 

* Wherever the thin and stunted palm trees are visible amid the Arabian 
deserts, the blessing of a spring of sweet water is expected and obtained. 



15 



23. 

Imprudence usually belongs to good hearted peo- 
ple, with little reflection, and without design of evil : 
Yet how tremendous are its effects upon character ! 
How fatal the result to human happiness ! 

Amazement treading close upon those effects, 
and that result, brings anguish of mind, which, 
striking the barb of its arrow even to the secret 
heart of the offender, probably compels circum- 
spection — possibly impels restoration — certainly in- 
duces amendment. 

At last, able to forgive ourselves, we can merit, 
and may meet the conciliation of the sensible, the 
worthy, and the sedate. 

24. 

Thoughtless Credulity, like heedless imprudence ? 
is frequently the known attribute of kind hearts 
and sensible minds, rather confiding than doubting, 
with more of feeling than of firmness, often the 
victim, never the betrayer. 

The celebrated and amiable Lavater is said to 
have been the most kindly credulous of mortals, 
neither suspecting the sincerity, nor doubting the 
honesty of individual character ; which confirms the 
sentiment, that this frailty, if it be one, may as tru- 
ly be the attribute of great minds, as of guileless 
hearts. 

Well meaning Credulity cannot exist with the 
vicious ; and yet such Credulity is not virtue ; rath- 



16 

er may it be termed the weakness and wildness of 
good intention, which good intention should restrain 
and chastise, lest deviation should become distor- 
tion, which is deformity, moral and material. 

Thus chastised and restrained, Credulity is for- 
bearing, patient and compassionate, resting on faith, 
cherished by hope, and above all, having charity. 

While the unbeliever of the moral, like him of the 
religious world, is cold, and hard of character, sus- 
picious, scornful and intolerant ; disdaining to listen, 
and desiring to proselyte, he is sometimes known to 
force upon the mature strength of serious conviction, 
the thin garb of thoughtless Credulity. 

25. 

Though mere Imputation can neither blacken the 
principles, nor harden the heart of the innocent, yet 
it is not unfrequently found so to harrow up his soul, 
and bewilder his understanding, that he seems to for- 
get how much more appalling it were, for the proud 
and the feeling to merit and escape ignominy, than 
by undesigning imprudence, to awaken the wrong of 
suspicion, and call down the violence of calumny, 
pervertingly and perversely iterating, 

"Even out of thine own mouth do 1 condemn thee" 

And yet whoever presumes to purchase exemp- 
tion by the simple consciousness of innocency, will 
surely feel and find, that the appearance of evil, is, 
in foolishness and sin, next to the perpetration of 
evil. 



17 

Surmise, report and opinion, are reputation, and 
who shall dare to say, I disdain reputation ? he will 
too soon, and too surely, be in danger of discarding 
morals, and of defying society ; the zeal of Imputa- 
tion, the fanaticism of envy, and the cruel bigotry of 
calumny, notwithstanding. 

26. 

Flattery in its exaggerations, seemingly has so 
much of jeering equivocation, and so little of deli- 
cate praise, so few touches of character, and such 
broad lines of caricatura, that, far from honouring its 
object, the usual effect is to awaken ridicule, and to 
invite contempt. 

And yet, under the moral certainty of such re- 
sult, there are who greedily taste and willingly 
swallow and readily digest the gross food, thus pre- 
pared and appropriated to the craving appetite of 
insatiable vanity. 

27. 

The falsehood of habitual Prevarication is as 
mean as immoral, and as unavailing as mean ; for the 
man detected in wilful falsehood, is looked after 
with eyes of such question and incredulity, that de- 
tection seems inevitable, and truth herself doubtful 
or unlovely from the pollution of his lips. 

And yet there are possible occasions in which 

Prevarication is pardonable, and untruth a virtue ; 

that is, in rescuing the life, the reputation, or the 

property of another from the purposed stabs, or 

3 



18 

the proposed depredation of a determined assassin. 
But these occasions may be said to act not as rules 
of life but of individual necessity ; alternatives of 
rare occurrence ; a great evil to be preferred to a 
yet greater evil ; controlling, not depraving the will 
nor the person ; who may acquiesce, even as he 
w 7 ould in all innocency submit to the scaffold, did 
patriotism or religion call for the sacrifice. 

28. 

If Perfection concentrate in no one mortal, it 
will be admitted that particularly and partially, it is 
sometimes seemingly visible in the personal beauty, 
or temper or goodness, or intellectual capacities, of 
the fairest and the best. 

Who is there among the fine and the feeling, that 
has not in the morning of life been led by grate- 
ful affection to the almost religious belief? — recogni- 
zing and rejoicing at the possible discovery of angel- 
ic Perfection ? assimilating the human to the divine 
nature. 

29. 

We often deceive ourselves, and sometimes im- 
pose on the credulity of those by whom we happen 
to be valued, or are really beloved, but the judg- 
ment seat of society accredits nothing fine nor fa- 
vourable upon the ex-parte Pretension of the con- 
cerned. 

As Pretension is not authority, and neither do words 
nor actions avail, unless supported by the evidence 



19 

©f external senses, better, brighter, and less partially 
directed than our own. 

30. 

To wonder at the fickleness of Fortune, or un- 
der her frown, to feel hurt at the mere coolness of 
acquaintance, were foolishness ; since who is aston- 
ished at the storm which suddenly shadows a fair 
day, when it scatters the insects and reptiles that 
were wont to bask in the sunshine ! 

31. 

Misfortune is the great teacher, whom we can- 
not know, without realizing some certain moral ad- 
vantage. 

It is the test of friendship, and the key-stone of 
the virtues, whose fair edifice is too often undermin- 
ed or overturned by the revels of prosperity. 

32. 

Prosperity may possibly, by its kindness, improve 
the temper, but was never known to mend the 
heart; hence, those who remain unspoiled by its 
allurements, must, beyond all others, be radically ex- 
cellent. 

33. 

The school of Affliction, even in its utmost se- 
verity, is found to inculcate the best principles of 
gentleness and virtue ; thence the truly sorrowful, 
those who are heart-struck, are usually the most lib- 



20 

era], benignant and forgiving. As in feeling our own 
miseries, we learn not merely to tolerate, but to com- 
passionate those of others* 



LINES TO POVERTY, 



Oh Poverty! hard featured dame, 
Whence grow the terrors of thy name ? 
'Tis said that from thy serious eye, 
The laughing train of pleasures fly. 
That deep within thy mansion rude, 
Lurks the black fiend, ingratitude. 
That toil, and want, and shame are known 
To make thy heartless hours their own, 
'Till guilt, his phrenzied eye on fire, 
Bids the last famished hope expire. 
Thus speaks the world, — to mammon true. 
While wrongs thy pleading worth pursue ; 
To me — and I have see?i thee near, 
Though harsh thy withering look appear* 
Though stern the teachers of the poor, 
And hard the lesson, to endure, 
Yet many a virtue born of thee, 
Lives sundered from prosperity. 
Religion, that on heaven relies, 
The moral of thy mind supplies. 
— Pity, with plaintive accent, kind, 
And patience, to her fate resigned \ 
Are seen thy lowly cot to share, 
While temperance dwells an inmate there, 
Love joined by truth — no rival's eye 
Wakes to the wish of poverty, 
But all the blest affections twinfi 



21 



Round many a rustic home of thine. 
Close circling with the nuptial tie, 
Joys, which a monarch could not buy, 
Though boonless, and to praise unknown, 
Oft is the lustre 'd life thy own : 
To thee, the priests of God belong, 
And thine the Poet's deathless song: 
Thee, toiling science lives to claim, 
Thou lead'st his thorny steps to fame. 
Creative genius feels thy power, 
Coeval with his natal hour; 
On him the rays of glory shine 
Too late — his parting breath is thine. 

Let me thy simple glances meet, 
Near the green hamlet's calm retreat ; 
Not where the city, throng'd with sin, 
Bids all the monster crimes begin. 
Thence will thy timid virtues fly, 
Scared by seduction's serpent eye. 
Their fate, each murdered hope to see, 
While every suffering lives to thee. 

Not that along the wintry shore, 

The fisher plies the wearying oar, 

Not that amid the sultry plain, 

The peasant piles the laboured grain, 

Wilt thou with frowning brow appear, 

To wring the grief-extorted tear. 

But when to wrongs thy sufferings lead, 

While shame, and false reproach succeed ; 

When genius, doomed with thee to mourn, 

Sees his unsheltered laurels torn. 

While ignorant malice, rushing by, 

Quick glances with insidious eye. 

When all thy cultured virtues move, 

Nor sense to feel, nor heart to love ; 

While treachery under friendship's guise t 



22 

Bids the pernicious rumour rise> 
Still aiming with envenomed dart, 
To reach the life-pulse of thy heart 
Then Poverty, hard featured dame, 
We feel the miseries of thy claim, 
Would from thy close embraces fly, 
Or in their palsying pressure die. 

34. 

Our most embittered enemies would for the most 
part be converted into real friends, were we by any 
means to obtain the power of conferring either 
pleasure or promotion personally upon them. 

It is equally true that not more than one friend 
in a thousand will be found to outbrave the hard 
storm of our adversity. 

35. 

Generally speaking, we retain the affections of our 
friends, just so long as we have no occasion for their 
actual services. The moment a tax is laid, revolt 
ensues, constraint appears, Friendship declines, and 
even the feeble gleam of cold good-will becomes ob- 
scured, if not wholly extinguished. 

36. 

In possessing capacity of any kind, let us rest up- 
on that and upon ourselves, rather than upon the 
promise of Friends, and the hope of friendship ; 
since a favour solicited is an obligation incurred, sub- 
verting the essential equality of friendship, or at 
least, blending its kind sentiment with the evil feel- 
ings of debtor and creditor. 



23 



37. 

Who is mine Enemy ? 

Not he who to the rudeness of contradiction 
adds the violence of accusation, and the cruelty of 
reproach ; since rudeness, violence and cruelty do 
not persuade, are without influence, and make no 
converts. Of such outrage, injury is not born ; but 
rather of him, the flatterer of my foibles, the re- 
viler of my virtues ; — for who is there among edu- 
cated and erring mortals, destitute of both ? — The 
doubter ! the questioner, the sneering apologist ! 

It is not he who like the apostolic Peter could 
have rashly and rudely denied his Lord, and loved 
him ; but he who as the professing Judas^ while be- 
traying even to the death, follows with blandish- 
ments and meets with caresses ; insidiously exclaim- 
ing " All Hail ! Lord or Master !" 

38. 

Perform a Beneficent action, and let it be actu- 
ated by the first of human pleasures, that of con- 
ferring benefits ; but never expect gratitude, nor 
even the return of spontaneous affection, since it re- 
quires superiority of mind, and nobler attributes of 
heart to admit or endure the heavy weight of obli* 
gation. 

39. 

How often is it found, af^r we have given all 
that we could in benefaction, yet provided that all 
be inadequate to the wants or even to the vain wish- 



24 

es of the necessitous; far from kindling the warmth 
of gratitude, or reaping the harvest of kindness; the 
gratuity thus limited and insufficient, remains as if 
to rise up in judgment against us ; with discontent, 
vexation, reproach and sarcasm — deep., if not loud — 
leaving to the simple heart of the poor benefactor 
only the purity of intention, the pride of principle 
and the approbation of conscience, with the best 
blessing — not temporal but eternal — of heaven itself, 
Is it then a question, what are the rewards of 
Beneficence ? 

40. 

To those who have in any way, or by any means, 
alleviated our miseries, though possibly from a spir- 
it of ostentation ; yet under the presumption of such 
possibility should we hold ourselves grateful ; even 
as an honest heart appreciates the deed of benevo- 
lence by the good that is conferred, while a base 
mind is busied in analysing motives, as if to obtain 
dispensation from the whole debt of True Grati- 
tude, 

41. 
Mercy is before sacrifice, and it is more useful 
to reclaim than to destroy, even as it is better pa- 
tiently to prune and cultivate the tree, rather than 
to root it from the earth when it appears fruitless 
and unflourishing. 

42. 
Nine tenths of the vices of this world, not to speak 



25 

of its crimes, do certainly originate more through 
thoughtless imbecility of character, than from delibe- 
rate atrocity of intention ; and if not immediately suc- 
ceeded by reformation, are eventually followed by re- 
pentance ; hence the persuasion of pity, and the for- 
bearance of Mercy are more likely to bd efficacious, 
than the hardness of reproof or the severity of 
punishment. 

43. 

If Virtue be not always its own reward, yet ad- 
mit this infallible axiom, Vice is ever its own aven- 
ger. 

SOUVENIR. 



During the endemial ravages of the spotted malignant fever in 
the state of Maine, the active benevolence of one man was 
known to meliorate the distress, and to preserve the existence 
of hundreds of human victims. 

To that man, the compassionate friend and beneficent physician 
of the poor, the following lines were inscribed by 

ONE OF THE GRATEFUL. 

For him, " The Man of Ross" — your boast prolong, 
Who love the Poet and the Muses' song. 
Lives there, whose deeds an equal homage claim, 
Yet shuns the tributary breath of fame, 
To pale disease, and paler misery flies, 
His dread the question of enquiring eyes. 
He, born to bless, with secret step draws near 
Where the proud sufferer drops the silent tear, 
4 



26 

Where hard and deep the frost of fortune lay ; 
Pours light and life, like heaven's restoring ray : 
Or where the murmuring poor by wants oppress'd. 
Claim the large bounty of his ample breast, 
Is known to loiter — till the bursting prayer, 
Tells his touched soul a pitying God is there ; 
That prayer the rescued innocent shall raise, 
With eyes that speak unutterable praise. 

Do hoards of wealth this bounteous stream supply ? 
Ah ! when could gold the richer feelings buy. 
See the vain Midas, grasping mid his store, 
Wait till the prosperous gales have wafted more. 
While he who breathes to shelter and to save, 
Repays his heaven the portioned boon it gave. 
Lives there — like him, by Britain's bard defined, 
A man of melting heart and matchless mind ; 
Who flies the grateful fame that would pursue ?* 
Thou, VaughanT wilt " blush" to find the semblance true. 

44. 

As Extremes are frequently known to meet, and 
strike, and fasten upon each other, those heavy af- 
flictions which breaking down the spirit, sink the 
soul in despondency or resign it to despair — those 
are sometimes overpowered by a sudden blaze of 
success, or requited by a restoring and rewarding 
stream of cloudless prosperity, rendered more bright 
and more blessed from the dim misery it found ; 
even as the darkest moment of night is that which 

* " Did good by stealth, and blushed ta find it /ame." 

t Benjamin Vaughan, of Hallowell in the state of Maine, whose ample for- 
tune is expended in deeds of mercy ; and whose medical science is exerted 
for the preservation of those whose only remuneration can be by blessings 
and prayers t© heaven, where his best treasure is, and his heart also ! . 



27 

precedes the glorious dawning of daj ; and the last 
convulsing agony of human life, is — for the merciful 
and the just — but as a path-way to the heaven of 
happiness and remuneration. 

Thence should not the cruelty of fortune blot out 
earthly Hope, nor the inflictions of mortal sorrow, 
nor the malice of worldly destiny, wounding and 
wasting the heart, lead and leave it to Despair. 

to 
GEORGE HENRY APTHORR 



My Brother ! at youth's vernal hour, 
Thine was beauty's transient flower ; 
My Brother ! in life's summer day, 
Thine is of mind, the enduring ray ; 
From blushing morn, to noon's decline. 
Of soul and heart, the strength is thine^ 
Soul to sustain, and heart to cheer 
The pilgrim's path of darkness here, 

To me thy deeds of kindness seem 
Expressive as the patriarch's dream, 
When to his lightly slumbering eyes, 
Angels from earth were seen to rise 
On steps* celestial — bright and fair, 
As hope had brought her bounties there, 
While on his sense the vision grew, 
The golden gate ol heaven he knew :| 



* Steps, rather than ladders, according to the original Hebrew. 

t And Jacob said, Surely this is the gate of heaven. 

Holy Scriptures, 



28 

Thus to the mourner's musing eyes, 
A passage brightening to the skies 
Is seen from earth — an angel's care 
Unfolds the portal's blessing there^ 

45. 

As the consciousness of a man's mind usually regu- 
lates his relative Opinion on every question of con- 
duct, motives and virtues ; the truly good rather 
hopes, trusts and vindicates, while the really wicked 
willingly doubts, disdains and vilifies. The heart of 
the one pities, pardons and accepts, that of the oth- 
er, like the iron couch of the ancient Procrustes, is 
found to mutilate or to distort, enlarging or reduc- 
ing to the cruel dimensions of its own hard sub- 
stance. 

46. 

Enthusiasm is that fine fervour and rich glow of 
delight, which belong to improved taste and indulged 
imagination; generous, kind and warm hearted, it 
forms and follows the perception of the painter, the 
sensibility of the poet, and the soul of the philan- 
thropist. 

Enthusiasm lives and is perfect with the noble- 
minded ; properly speaking, it is not of the fanatic 
nor the bigot, and still less is it of the merciless un~ 
believer, for the blood of these is cold even in its fu- 
ry, as if rushing onward to destroy what they could 
not proselyte. 

And yet Enthusiasm is but a fine feeling, and not 
a sacred sentiment ; the only part it can legitimate- 



29 

ly hold in rational Christianity, is that of calling in 
the aid of devotional musick, by which the thoughts 
and faculties seem to rise even as it were on the di- 
vine wings of melody, from earth to heaven. 

Enthusiasm may be heated into passion, or it may 
be frozen into prejudice ; when no longer the same 
good genius which animates and inspires, it becomes 
an exasperated spirit that degrades ; a spirit who 
neither thinks nor reads nor reasons, but rather deals 
and desolates, whose proper name is Violence. 

Enthusiasm, correct and corrected, as attached to 
the fine arts and devoted to the best affections,, is 
blameless and beautiful ; for Enthusiasm neither de- 
fames nor debases, nor deserts ; but is in effect, good 
will, admiration and applause, near which the ve- 
hemence of the baser passions cannot approach, and 
to which the selfishness of vanity, and the sordid- 
ness of vice do not belong. 

48. 
The Wisdom of actions is better than the Wis- 
dom of words, for in the moral, as in the vegetable 
kingdom, one may plant and another may water, but 
it is the light and warmth of living energy, which 
like the brighter ray of heaven, can alone give the 
increase. 



30 



LINES 

TO THE MANSION OF MY ANCESTORS, (1) ON SEEING IT OCCUPIED A§ 
A BANKING ESTABLISHMENT. 



Mansion ! no more by beauty graced, 
Thee have the spoiler's hands defaced. 
Mansion of yore ! thy stately dome, 
Seem'd of a polish'd world the home. 
The noble f 2) there were nobly led, 
And at the generous banquet fed ; 
While the Crusader s shield (3) was seen, 
To tell o. deeds that once had been. 

How art thou changed ! and mammon's store 
Proclaims the reign of soul is o'er ! 
The feast, the dance, the song of glee, 
No longer of thy name nor thee. 
Apthorp ! most dear, most honoured name, 
A parent's boast, his children's claim, 
Thy halls to taste and talents known, 
Where all the brilliant bounties shone : 
Thy sons approved in arts or arms, 
Thy daughters of transcendant charms 
Are gone — and Plutus builds a throne, 
Enriched by fortune's gifts alone. 
Even where the curtaining velvet rose, 
Round the calm midnight of repose ; 
Where my proud father's (4) infant eyes, 
First saw the beauteous morning rise, 
Proud, with a Cambrian's boast to claim 
The warrior's and the artist's fame ; 
Proud, in his matchless form to trace 



(1) See the end of the volume, 



31 

The impress of an honoured race, 
But prouder in his gifted mind, 
The genius of that race to find. 

All, all are lost — (5) the bright, the fair 

Are gone — and wealth is worshipped there : 

The children's children live to see 

Nor memory of thy name nor thee, 

No mansion by the grandsire trod, 

Nor hill, nor vale, nor grassy sod, 

Stay with the race — their only claim 

The riches of his treasured name : 

Not one of all survives to tell 

How fond his glance of blessing fell: 

Fame only hves in cold decay ; 

For time has borne the bloom away. 

49. 

If individuals of sedate minds, cold hearts and 
cautious utterance, usually escape persecution, and 
are without enemies ; yet, be it asked and urged, 
have these either friends, adherents, or kindly influ- 
ence? Do they reach and reap the spontaneous 
growth of abundant affection ? Or can they touch 
the fine chords of awakened gratitude? inspiring 
and commanding he music of voluntary applause? 

If open-hearted inadvertency have its pang and its 
reproof; to calculating Suspicion no pleasures be- 
long : solitary security is not happiness, neither is 
the heat of angry reprimand like a consuming fire, 
whose end is mora destruction. 

As in casual society it were well to be wary and 
distrustful, in social intercourse it is better to be sin- 
cere and unsuspecting j remembering that though 



32 

erring man prove your accuser, God is the judge of 
all that breathe and bless, and sin and suffer, Man, 
the cause and the victim of events, whose guardian is 
truth, whose guide is conscience, whose reward is the 
sympathies of a feeling heart, and the sacredness of 
an unprevaricating mind. 

50. 

The mere words of Kindness, even admitting that 
such were but a voice ; yet are the sweet tones of that 
voice more valuable and more valued by the touched 
heart of affliction, than thousands of fine gold dis- 
played with arrogance, bestowed Avith admonition, 
or lavished with the complacent superiority of con- 
scious munificence. 

LINES 

TO THE BREATH OF KINDNESS, 



The following lines being, as their style imports, a produc- 
tion of early youth, are here inserted, not surely for po- 
etic merit, but rather for the grateful sentiment at that pe- 
riod felt, uttered, and inscribed 

TO THE KINDEST OF THE KIND.(l) 

Sweet is the garden's breeze that flows, 
With health and sweetness from the rose ; 
Charm'd was the strain Cecilia knew, 
And with enrapturing finger drew ; 
So sweet the breath which kindness moves. 
So charms the voice attention loves : 
She, with the organ's lifted peal. 



33 



Could make a listening Angel feel, 
With floating wing from heaven descend, 
And o'er her fine attractions bend,* 
To thee a finer strain is given, 
A strain that wins the heart to heaven. 

What time the breath of kindness steals 

O'er every pang that sorrow feels ; 

With all affection's hoarded stores, 

How rich the balmy whisper pours, 

Rich as the spring's first blossom blows, 

Warm as the lip of summer glows ; 

Sweet as the morning's clovered vale, 

And healthful as its zephyr'd gale, 

More prized than wealth ; than worlds more dear ; 

Still may that whisper loiter near ; 

Still to this trusting heart reveal, 

What only thou — loved friend ! can'st feel. 



51. 

Success animates and invigorates the soul. Dis- 
appointment chills and depresses the heart ; and yet 
the overheated excitement of continual Success, like 
that of the grosser stimulants of food, is oftener 
known to enfeeble, and sometimes found to debase 
when it seemed to exhilarate, was expected to 
strengthen, and pretended to preserve ; while the 
frost of affliction, like that of the element, braces 
the mind, gives strength to the principles, and im- 
proves the moral constitution of the heart. 

Do the imposing look, the deriding laugh, and 

# In the legends of the saints, it is written that saint Cecilia, the invent- 
ress of the organ, drew an angel from heaven by the melody of that divine 
instrument. 

5 



34 

the cold-hearted contempt of neglect, belong to the 
sensibilities of sorrow ? Or can the blessed kindness 
of good-will benefit or oblige him, who holds every 
boon as his legitimate due, and considers every be- 
ing of less pampered prosperity, as his unquestioned 
inferior. 

High minded pride, with corrected feeling, be- 
longs to the dignified humility of misfortune. Low 
thoughted vanity is an attribute of selfish unpitying 
Success, thanking his God that he is not as other 
men, nor even like this poor publican. 

52. 

Success is sometimes seemingly the gift of God, 
to the most benevolent of his creatures, clothing the 
naked and feeding the hungry, in remuneration of 
no earthly reward, excepting that of the prayer and 
the praise of those who were ready to perish. 

To whom shall the wretched look for succour? 
and from whom and of whose bounty dees that suc- 
cour descend ? but of him, the fortunate and the be- 
neficent ; the largess of whose charity is not con- 
fined to the gift of silver and of gold, of food and of 
raiment, but whose voice is the melody of kindness, 
whose eye is the harbinger of feeling, and whose 
heart is the abode of brotherly love, while the unit- 
ed power and will, like that of the Deity, is found 
in the blessing of his deeds. 

" Lord of every liberal art, 

" Open hand and generous heart." 

To the inspired enterprise of that individual Mind 
from whose true character such features have been 



35 

delineated, the genius of Success seems as closely 
united, as if it were not, and must not be severed. 

Of the name and station of that favoured one, 
what harbour ! what mart ! what nation of the civ- 
ilized earth, or the navigable ocean, yet remains un- 
informed, or unregarding ! 

53. 

A being composed of passionate elements, and 
subject to paroxysms, is dangerous and must not be 
trusted ; yet such may be conciliated into reason, or 
reasoned into conciliation. 

But hold no hope in the close and gloomy Tempe- 
rament of that man, whose speech is slow and me- 
chanical, whose countenance is cold and silent, his 
anger pale and trembling ; while his blood never 
warms without boiling ; for the violence of such de- 
mands a victim ; the fearful laugh of his rage, like 
the insidious smile of his malice, is the triumph of 
hatred over innocence ; and his kindest moments, 
wrapped up in concealment, are without pity and 
without remorse ; in probing the bosom of truth, he 
keeps his own thoughts hidden, burying their real 
character under impenetrable mystery. 

If such men are ! they are most perilous ! 

54. 

There are, in whose Temperament the violence 
of passion is so blended with the malignity of re- 
membrance, that, though their fury should kill, yet, 
like the wilder brutes of prey, pity would not be in- 
duced, nor mercy appear, nor remorse nor reform 
ever come* 



36 

Yet it is said the lion may be tamed, and even the 
venom of the serpent averted by the mind or music 
of man ; while the ferocious and unmerciful world- 
ling, can neither be made docile through art, nor 
hurtless in nature. 

Happily, of this species, like that of other cruel 
animals, the individuals of feeble increase do not 
multiply among better mortals, and as rarely seen, 
are usually known, marked, and avoided, 

55. 

Most of us would die of despair, if we knew what 
were occasionally uttered against us, even by our 
best friends, who may merely hope to palliate of- 
fences, by conceding imperfections. 

Let us not then be curious to enquire, since such 
curious enquiry, if gratified, would but vex the 
heart, mislead the mind, and accumulate further inju- 
ries ; for too partial to be just, when the subject in- 
volves our own vanities, and without the ability ei- 
ther to defend those vanities or to rescue ourselves 
from Detraction, we only invite new assaults, and 
give strength to that enmity, whose feeble or doubt- 
ful existence might by silent forbearance, speedily 
have passed away. 

Hence, let those unfortunates, who fear, and feel ? 
and think they may have merited obloquy, continue 
to pursue the real substance, to thern^ of evil report : 
while for the upright mind of good intention, such 
report is as a dark shadow, fast fading to oblivion; a 
discordant sound, heard, and lost forever 



37 



56. 

Nine times out of ten, Slander is the mere pas- 
time of the idle, unfounded in truth, yet unaccompa- 
nied by malice ; and unless the character attacked 
happen to be of much personal importance, but lit- 
tle stress is laid, or esteem lost, nor does recollec- 
tion of the specific charge remain ; and thence is it 
reiterated, that listening to the individual report, 
and attempting the refutation of what touches our- 
selves, were dangerous folly ; which, awakening the 
pride of the Slanderer, involves the necessity of 
his confirming either directly or indirectly, what had 
been asserted, and further induces the wish of mak- 
ing proselytes. 

Thus annexing the evils of publicity and enmity, 
to the inflicted wrongs of the conscious sufferer. 

57. 

Listen not to the Defamer, since, were he kind, 
and tender, and charitable and good, he would not ap- 
pear before you, as the voluntary libeller of an er- 
ring mortal like himself, whose individuality par- 
takes of virtues and miseries like his own; whose 
secret thoughts he never read, and whose true mo- 
tives he cannot learn. 

Listen not — or can you believe in, or trust to 
one, w T hose heart is unsound ? his assertions confess- 
edly founded in ignorance, or mentally built on false- 
hood — having lent his principles to the weakness of 
prejudice, or resigned his soul to the distortions of 
Defamation, 



38 



58. 

To complain of injury, and to expose with recrim- 
ination the coarse character of the injurer, is per- 
haps meanly pitiful and most unworthy ; but it is 
not Calumny, which, founded upon envy, attacks 
neither the false nor the feeble ; but rather the 
strong and the gifted. 

59. 

Calumny finds facts and distorts them, searching 
and probing a slight blemish, until it appear or be- 
come an incurable wound. 

The Calumniator, always awake and never wea- 
ried, like the Personage described in holy writ, may 
be seen walking to and fro, selecting the fairest 
fruits of human excellence, with an hard hand, and 
voracious appetite, to pluck down and devour. 

60. 

The zeal of calumny, even by the inconsistency 
of its intemperance, is not unfrequently known to 
turn upon the calumniator, and rescue the victim ; 
for malignity peeping out beneath the thick veil of 
affected palliation, appears in native ugliness, so re- 
pulsive, that the offended ear and eye turn in concil- 
iation to the better features of the abused. 

In effect, holding that as impossible, which was 
only improbable, or simply untrue. 

At the same time it should be understood and re- 
membered that the honest indignation which virtuous 
minds feel and utter against detected atrocity, is nei- 
ther Detraction, Slander, Defamation nor Calumny. 



39 



61. 

Why does the promised and promising festivity of 
a future day, usually terminate in disappointment or 
end in disgust ? 

Because to the worldly minded anticipations ap- 
proach with a fair face, Avarm and smiling, while 
retrospection, cold and wearied, returns in features 
of gloom or of reproach ; for the words of prom- 
ise are kind, and the language of performance rude 
in seeming deficiency, because in pride and selfishness 
of heart, measuring our hopes by our merits, the re- 
ceipt can never equal the calculation and its de- 
mands. 

The despotism of human vanity, like that of ar- 
bitrary sway, has neither equals nor friends, nor 
even subjects ; all are held as slaves or as enemies. 

Also the poorest in human happiness is not unfre- 
quently the most gifted and graced by wordly pos- 
sessions. 

Let those therefore, who tread the plain and lev- 
el path of perfect mediocrity in contentment of soul, 
be grateful for the blessing present and possessed, 
neither resting on the precarious hope of Tomor- 
row, nor repining at the positive disappointment of 
Yesterday. 

62. 

If, under the sparkling point of much Wit, there 
be sometimes discovered the hidden canker of much 
malice, this, usually betraying itself, would prove 
harmless, were it not, that dazzled by the brilliancy 



40 

of the gem, we purposely overlook or wilfully dis- 
regard the alloy of the setting and the coarseness of 
the workmanship. 

Never reflecting that we also are vulnerable, and in 
what touches the egotism of self-love, so far from 
indifferent, that when no longer able to admire and 
exult, we complain and accuse. At the same time, 
and by the same means reclaimed from the voluntary 
blindness of presumption, we may look to our own 
imperfections, and through discipline learn mercy. 

63. 

Youth and Beauty are endowments usually pos- 
sessed without the present consciousness either of 
their blessing or their brevity. And it is only in the 
autumn and twilight of passing existence, that we re- 
member the blushing sweetness of Youth in the 
brilliant morning of its unavailing Beauty. 

An awakened remembrance usually clouded by 
sorrow — a faded rose w r ith thorns striking to the 
heart ; for whose deep wounds remaining life brings 
and has no remedy. 

64. 

Is our friend or benefactor attempted to be made 
the base subject of censure, or the more vile object 
of ridicule ; great were the sin of silence on our 
part, and greater the crime of acquiescence, what- 
ever the pretences of Precaution or the pleadings 
of Policy may be, for silence is even proverbially 
submission to consent while acquiescence were 



41 

treachery, confirming the aspersion, and fixing the 
odium, as if willing to immolate the high sentiment 
of Fidelity to the mean feeling of Policy. 

65. 

Debts of hard necessity are pitiable or deplora- 
ble ; Debts of vain luxury, pernicious or atrocious ; 
yet there are, who, with prodigal selfishness, out- 
stepping station, and outrunning income, maybe seen 
pushing credit to extremity, till it fall and is lost for- 
ever ; then sporting promises until these and their 
broken faith are given up to the meanness of false- 
hood, or left to the punishment of perfidy. And yet 
the inadvertent spendthrift will learn, and must 
know, that the folly of habitual Debt may be class- 
ed among the least pardonable of human frailties ; 
that to retrieve former extravagance by future res- 
ponsibility, is like flying to a furnace for the cure of 
a fever ; it is the endeavour to save a sinking ship by 
contriving to force new apertures, under pretence 
of driving out the sea-wave. 

Frequently and more fatally, Debt may be con- 
sidered idleness preying upon industry ; w r aste and 
vanity counteracting good will, and defrauding gen- 
erosity ; an offence which the penal laAV does not 
properly reach, and which the laws of honour and 
humanity do and ought to condemn ; an irregularity 
which pampers the worthless and starves the wor- 
thy ; which plants hope and reaps despair, leading to 
incalculable vice, and leaving to incurable misery, 
sometimes courting inebriation as a possible specific, 
6 



42 

and often embracing suicide as a certain remedy; 
whose victim lives in shame and may die in sorrow, 
leaving no one excellence to embalm or redeem his 
memory. 

Decision of character is essential to those w r ho 
mean to be distinguished. 

A man may be unblameable and of some personal 
merit, but if he temporise or be deficient in that en-* 
ergy of soul, which, founded on principle, enables him 
with precision and possession to determine and to dare j 
whatever his philosophy, or even his good sense may 
pretend, he will be unnoticed or despised, as equal- 
ly unworthy of worshippers or calumniators. 

67. 

Moderation and forbearance of temper are God- 
like. Moderation and circumspection, through sys- 
tem, from stratagem, and by calculation, are con- 
temptible. 

The man who studiously avoids difficulties, and 
reasons upon consequences, when he might possibly 
serve or save, may be an harmless acquaintance, but 
is a selfish uninteresting friend, and a sordid cold 
hearted advocate. 

68. 

It has been truly said that "hypocrisy is the hom- 
age which vice pays to virtue ;" it is equally true, 
that falsehood is the tribute which Envy grants to 



43 

genius, as seemingly no one arrives at eminence, with- 
out the accompaniment of injury and misrepresenta- 
tion. 

An equal consolation this to the great, and to the 
little individuals of this poor world. 

69- 

Envy is the frailty of mean minds, united with 
irascible tempers humiliated by conscious inferiority, 
without natural resources, and unable to elevate 
themselves; these are agonized to the desperate 
ambition of climbing above the depression, or bright- 
ening over the shadow of another's fall. 

Is Envy then humility ? — Look at the envious. 

70. 

The good, the wise, and the gifted, are rarely 
among the envious ; the proud, the passionate and 
the credulous, with animated feelings, seem less 
adicted to Envy, than the cold hearted, the suspi- 
cious and the questioner ; positive foibles, mingled 
with possible virtues, rendering an individual more 
tolerable, and more tolerant, than the separation or 
non-existence of both ; since perfection cannot bear, 
and frailty will not forbear. 

Also, the proud, the passionate and the credulous, 
are usually too high minded or too hot headed, to 
assimilate in any sort with that freezing malevolence 
which belongs to the narrowing selfishness of Envy. 



44 



71. 



Every malignant passion has its remedy, or at 

least, its melioration, excepting that of Envy, for 
which every native excellence, every acquired vir- 
tue, every additional benefit, lives and shines, but to 
embitter the individual hatred; giving force to an- 
tipathy and strength to abhorrence even while it 
disarms accusation. 

72. 

Envy is a Proteus, assuming many shapes, and 
borrowing many languages ; occasionally even those 
of encomium, sympathy, compassion and friendship ; 
under which disguise it surely stabs deepest ; for 
the praises of envy have hyperbole, and produce the 
ludicrous, or being comparative, excite indignation — 
or are decidedly false, as founded on qualities not 
appropriate to the individual, and generate con- 
tempt, or kindle dislike, which, falling on the victim, 
leave impunity, possibly applause, for the violator. 
Hence, if Envy seem to commend, it is with effort 
or in excess, in terms which chill by their coldness, 
or surprise by their vehemence, as less intent upon 
elevating the object, than by the wiles of assimilation, 
or by the strength of contrast, to push down or over- 
whelm it ; for the frozen wilderness of an envi- 
ous heart may be compared to that of the upper- 
most Alps, or rather to that of the Arctic shore and 
station, as having neither calm nor comfort, nor cheer, 
nor charities. Thence, in avoiding the treacherous 
Ice-berg, beware of the outrageous storm-drift. 



45 



73. 

We are always prompt in remembering what va- 
rious claims, and how many rights we individually 
hold in the great scale of society; while it is not 
unusual to forget, that to those claims, and to these 
rights, reciprocating duties of equal obligation are 
annexed. Since but few, if any, among the whole, the 
healthy and the sane, are so truly unimportant, and 
so really inefficient, as to be neither capable of con- 
ferring benefits, nor of inflicting grievances ; and 
whenever or wherever the Good and the useful are 
rejected, expect too surely that the Evil and the 
burdensome will be substituted. 

To escape this Evil, and for the attainment of 
that Good, it is only essential to impress upon re- 
membrance the simple fact, that there are no rights 

WITHOUT DUTIES. 

74. 

Individuals may sometimes be found, of temper so 
untameable, that upon offence taken, with or with- 
out cause, Malediction follows in vain wishes of im- 
mediate death for the offender ; under seeming med- 
itation of delight at the probable or possible ful- 
filment of such vain wishes at the judgment seat of 
heaven. 

Even of that merciful heaven which has not rest- 
ed the life or destiny of any one of its creatures 
upon the cruel Malediction of an enemy ; but rath- 
er in severe justice, turning aside from the ferocious 
mind, sees the angel of compassion descend with 



46 

peace and good will to the heart of the gentle, the 
gracious and the forgiving, 

75. 

Strive not too anxiously to please by Agreeable- 
ness of mind, nor of manner ; since in this, vain were 
the endeavour of art without the gift of nature ; 
useless the address of cunning, disclaiming the sanc- 
tity of principle, 

76. 

The really agreeable charm without effort and 
without consciousness; while the merely Cunning 
may succeed in any attempt sooner than in that of 
agreeableness, since there exists a certain uncon- 
cealable finesse and management of caution in the 
dispositions of the Cunmng, which, causing distrust, 
forbid confidence, and prevent attraction. 

Yet, to the naturally agreeable, there is usually 
annexed an ingenuousness of mind which treads so 
closely upon the heel of inadvertence, that the ex- 
tremely attractive are more liable to compel affec- 
tion than to command respect. 

77. 

There does indeed exist a sort of capacity in Cun- 
ning ; but this bears no affinity to superior intellect, 
as Cunning is the certain expedient of weakness. 

The strong mind, like the strong frame, in con- 
scious power openly asserts, and generously defends ; 
while Cunning, veering as the wind, and undulating 
as the wave, may, like those stormy elements, in sue- 



47 

cessful mischief, distress, disjoint and undermine ; 
but the clear sun-beam of genius, in its vertical 
force, gives light, and life and beauty, to all the 
works of man, and to every gift of nature and of 
God. 

78. 

In associating with the unfortunate, it seems easy 
to forget their names, their features, and their suf- 
ferings, but it is really more easy to forget Ourselves, 
the littleness of our consequence, the brevity of our 
existence. 

79. 

Does the finger of Accusation point at the inno- 
cent ? and is he reviled? 

Let him seriously reflect, that the past word, like 
the past deed, may be redeemed, but can never be 
recalled ; and let him serenely enquire, if it were not 
more healing to forgive, reconcile, and where possi- 
ble, to forget the injury, and the injurer ; even con- 
science and principle, resting exclusively on ourselves, 
are neither to be distorted by malice, nor depraved 
by unmerited and unmerciful A€cusation. 

80. 

Civility is a debt due to every one, a debt will- 
ingly and punctually paid even to adversity herself, 
by the enlightened and the kind-hearted ; while the 
weak, the vain and the insolent, are seen fraudu- 
lently transferring their whole stock to the persons 
of the prosperous. 



81. 

Civility in fact promises nothing, while it implies 
every thing : and being held as the lawful right of 
all, its omissions, resented by the mean, and despised 
by the proud, appear only worthy of pity to the se- 
riously reflecting mind. 

82. 

What is more easy of performance than mere Ci- 
vility? what more safe, or less encumbered? since 
it may appear even under the insolence of pride ; 
when it assumes the name of condescension ; or is 
cold and forbids approach, or lightly familiar and 
implies superiority; but in its perfection, Civility is 
kind, inviting confidence, and attracting good will. 

In reality, a bow, a smile, a word, cost nothing, 
while the total omission of these may prove the pos- 
sible purchase of evils incalculable. 

The contempt thus indicated, being repaid with ten- 
fold disdain, causes estrangement, and leads to enmity? 
followed by the bitter sarcasm of personal reproach. 
Hence, injury, with its whole host of tormentors, 
all of which might have been arrested by a look, 
or propitiated by the easy graciousness of passing 
Civility. 

Yet surely the most pointed shaft of incivility 
would fall hurtless, were we simply to reflect, that 
the rude and the neglectful have not, and are not, of 
the sensible, and the amiable. 



40 



LINES 

INSCRIBED TO A CELEBRATED HISTORICAL PAINTER, UPON HIS RETURN 
FROM GREAT BRITAIN TO THE UNITED STATES* 



Not Raphael-— that these lowly lays, 
Can reach the summit of thy praise, 
That thou, the young Columbia's boast, 
The pride of Britain's polished coast, 
Can'st from the muses fragrant breath. 
Receive a finer, fonder wreath ; 
Than that two rival worlds bestow, 
To grace thy fame embellished brow. 
But holier friendship bows the knee. 
To virtue, genius, and to thee* 

She, whose fair morn of life was new, 
When on that voice instruction grew, 
While every word a moral taught, 
And kindness won the wandering thought 
She sees her early friend restored, 
With every worth her youth adored. 
Sees him, unlike the summer race, 
Who shun affliction's altering face ; 
Still the benignant accent hears, 
Still finds that worth her soul reveres. 

Ah, Raphael! not the loud acclaim, 
And far extending voice of fame ; 
Not all the joys thy art can give, 
Not through the lapse of time to live. 



50 



Not all thy patriot valour* known, 
The light with which thy Parent} shone ! 
Can to thy bosom yield a good, 
Like thine own conscious rectitude. 

For me, by many a lesson taught, 
Of patient hope, the enduring thought; 
Oft have I met the insidious stare, 
The mean neglect, the enquiring air. 
Which shunning every kindlier part, 
Still probed the lacerated heart. 
While malice urged the shaft of pain, 
Have bid the smile of pity reign ; 
And proud serenity controul 
The anguish of the indignant soul. 
Have seen the giddy careless throng, 
Melt at the sorrows of a song ; 
While the mild stranger still supplied, 
That tear, known arrogance denied. 

In vain the searching mind has sought, 
For w©rth, mid folly's rude resort, 
And still with heart-exulting pride, 
Found truth with genius close allied. 

83. 

If we do not all live to improved virtue, at least, 
we exist to acquired wisdom. Experience teaches 
and tames the wildest, restraining the dream of im- 
agination, which rests upon the future, in disregard 
of the present ; and for that we have not possess- 
ed, relinquishes what we have, and ought to cherish. 

* As a distinguished officer of high rank in the American Revolution, 
t The late Governor of a neighbouring state. 



51 



84. 

Experience, recalling the past, impels justice to 
ourselves, and forbearance to others, by instructing 
how much better our own personal conduct might 
have been, and how infinitely worse, w r ith more of 
actual injury, it were possible for others to have per- 
petrated against us, 

85. 

Who is there among the children of erring human- 
ity, of life, and temper, and station, so pure, so blest 
and so brilliant ; so guided, guarded and graced, that 
the wily serpent of Mockery cannot reach? nor the 
deep shadow of Malice obscure ? 

What Mockery cannot deride, Malice may de- 
grade ; and where the shaft of ridicule would seem 
pointless and of no avail, the mischievous fiends of 
doubt, suspicion, hint and anecdote, are ready with 
the dagger and the chalice, to strike where they 
may not crush, and to poison what they cannot anni- 
hilate,, 

86. 

If Advice come uncalled for, it usually comes in 
vain, but when courted and solicited, like worldly fa- 
vorites, it is met with civility, and listened to with 
complacency ; though seldom followed, and some-* 
times feared, it is, nevertheless, admitted, flattered* 
evaded, or reconciled* 



52 



87. 

We are oftener bewildered than benefited by 
Advice. 

For admitting the judgment of another to be more 
clearly capable than our own, yet his friendship, 
his heart, and his principles, may be more cold, hard 
and crooked, whence he willingly disappoints, or 
gladly misleads; to which, add the possible chance 
of inferior sense, superior cunning, and less of useful 
experience ; the result is, that it were more safe to 
rely upon the reflecting consciousness of our own 
honest mind, than upon the prejudging opinion, and 
deceptive Advice of another, 

And yet, as some rays of mental light may, upon 
collision, gleam through the dark confusion of decid- 
ed dulness — -and even strike out and sparkle from 
the flint of hard feeling— these, if properly conduct- 
ed, will assist in disclosing the right path, whose in- 
tricacies we must unravel for ourselves. 

88. 

If Advice be usually solicited without sincerity, 
and under no reliance, not less frequently is it bestow- 
ed with feelings of derision, and with intentions of 
delusion. 

In fact, led by the vanity of our hopes, or driven 
by the selfishness of our fears, we resort to the 
opinion of others, apportioning the worth of such 
opinion by the standard of our own desires or de- 
signs, while the secret intention of the consulted is 



53 

to counteract the one and to subvert the other, for 
when selfishness and vanity have covered the eyes 
with a bandage, treachery aims his shaft unperceiv- 
ed and unsuspected, even to the death-wound. 

89. 

Why should we kindle into anger, or irritate into 
uneasiness, uttering accusation against those by 
whom we discover ourselves to be Disliked ? 

Since liking and disliking are not always of voli- 
tion, but sometimes of necessity, born of prejudice, 
and nurtured by passion ; if the weak or the wicked 
betray this passion, and disclose that prejudice, let 
us simply reflect what is the worth of opinion such 
as theirs ?— rsomething perhaps to the vain and way- 
ward world, nothing to the honest mind and its ap-, 
proving conscience. 

Yet should this fancied evil of Dislike arise ever* 
from the just, were it not better, silently retreating to 
the home of our own heart, patiently to search, and 
properly to enquire, if no personal error, no cause of 
offence, remain sheltered and lurking there. 

Thus correcting our individual faults, ere we car-? 
ry complaint or bring reproach to others, when if 
we find ourselves to be without sin, we shall be 
without the disposition to punish, as such, the mere 
mistakes of our brethren. 

90. 

Quarrels of any description, and upon every ac- 
count, though terminating only in rash words and re- 
ciprocated accusation, are so degrading to the par- 



54 

ties, and so hurtful to what reputation they happen 
to possess, that there are but few unretorted insults 
which could be received, nor any voluntary humble- 
ness of concession, to which we can submit, that is, 
in effect more hurtful, or so productive of contempt, 
and individual avoidance, as the impetuous passions 
of the quarrelsome. 

The quarrels of lovers are said to reproduce af- 
fection ; on such we pretend not to decide, though 
it may surely be questioned whether intemperance 
of language and mutual displeasure, are remedies 
fitted to regenerate kindness, or to reconcile exaspe- 
rated feelings. 

Neither is it to be credited, even under the sorce- 
ry of young and romantic love, that by any spell of 
his talisman, the gall of mental bitterness will seem 
as sweetness to the taste ; or the soured spirit of 
contention be known to improve the fine flavour of 
real tenderness of heart, and true delicacy of mind* 

Whatever result the quarrels of lovers may in- 
deed have ; most fatal were such experiment upon 
the relative, the friend or the husband ; to the heart 
of these, every new rupture is surely a new wound, 
inflicted as by a dagger, whose sharpness may final- 
ly cut assunder the tender ties of affinity, and even 
rend away the stronger chain of enthusiastic affec- 
tion. 

91. 

If under the extreme exigency of misfortune, ap- 
plication be made to the prosperous, not for the 
charity of money, but for that of sympathy, or of 



55 

counsel, how surely is the word Patience put by 
them in the imperative ; as if grief and adversity 
were always deficient in that virtue, though the tri- 
als of every day, and every hour, impelling the ne- 
cessity, also enforce its observance. 

92. 

As when the evils of our destiny seem desperate, 
Patience must and will come, if not with the cer- 
tainty of a cure, at least in bringing an opiate. When 
addressing the afflicted, were it not better, more 
blest and more efficacious, occasionally to offer the 
words of kindness, rather than always to urge the 
duties of Patience. 



PRAYER TO PATIENCE. 



Calm Goddess of the steadfast eye, 
Thy coldest apathy impart, 

Since from a world of woe I fly 

To thee — O ! take me to thy heart. 

On me descend with healing power, 
Assist me to suppress the groan, 

Or give me while afflictions lower, 
To turn, like Niobe, to stone. 

Let me to pride's exulting sneer, 
Oppose thy much enduring smile, 

Serene — when angry storms appear. 
Silent — if ruder words revile. 



56 

Subdue the tyrant of the mind, 

Oppressive enemy of thee: 
Ah ! who can hope or solace find. 

When racked by sensibility. 

Release me from her wearing sway, 

And shield me with thy firmer aid, 
Secure, when I thy voice obey ; 

Gentle and peace-preserving maid. 

If greater pangs this bosom rend, 

Than ever bosom felt before ; 
Still further may thy sway extend, 

And greater, deeper be thy power* 

Be every wrong disarmed by thee, 

Rob poor presumption of her pride, 
Bid malice at thy presence flee, 

Turn envy's venom'd shaft aside. 

Let false reproach some mercy feel, 

To mean neglect be kindness lent ; 
From passion wrest his lifted steel, 

From dark revenge, his discontent 

Power of the meek and silent eye, 

Surround me with thy placid charms ; 
To thy calm graces let me fly, 

My only refuge is thine arms. 

93. 

Beauty of person, gentleness of demeanour, and 
accomplishment of mind, in commanding admiration, 
may, by their united charm, inspire the warmest 
passion of devoted love. 

While to good sense, great talents, and the vir- 



57 

tues, there is only awarded the seeming coldness of 
Esteem, and the real distance of Respect. 

Yet be it recollected, that admiration, and even 
passionate love, by nature frail and fugitive, are less- 
ened or lost in familiarity; while the truth of Es- 
teem, and the homage of Respect, nurtured by inti- 
macy, and matured in knowledge, are in effect, nei- 
ther cold nor distant, nor prone to change, nor sub- 
ject to dissolution. 

94. 

Such is the respect paid to affluence, that there is 
much reason to believe, even of the best of us, that 
we never truly Disdain, and cannot learn to Detest 
any man of elevated station, and prosperous for- 
tunes, simply and solely for bad qualities and per- 
sonal vices ; provided these and their possessor have 
in no way and by no means injured, or given offence, 
individually to ourselves. 

Then indeed, in canvassing we have no mercy ; 
in credulity no restraint, and in the condemnations 
of Disdain and Detestation seemingly no justice. 

If such, the selfish frailty even of the virtuous, — 
what are the multitude ? 

95. 

Cold, unparticipating and joyless, must that hermit 
heart indeed be, which fastidiously rejects even with 
Repulsion every boon of trivial obligation, bestowed 
in social intercourse by the Avorthy and the kind, 
but of less selfish Meanness than his, who deigns to 
solicit, to desire, or to accept services from a source 
8 



58 

where individual regard has not been, and personal 
respect can never come. 

96. 

In the soul of that man, who disdaining to be 
obliged, has never felt the glow of Gratitude — ex- 
pect not the fervour of Generosity, nor even the 
warmth of good will. 

For he is a solitary being, without affinities or af- 
fections ; like the lord of a desolate island, has sep- 
arated him from his kind, and in resigning or los- 
ing the social virtues, given up the whole of his poor 
heart to Selfjsh idolatry. 

97. 

The gifted, the amiable and the Wise, with ca- 
pacity to astonish, to instruct, and to enchant, are, 
in the eloquence of Words, sometimes known to ex- 
tend that capacity to an extreme surely unanswera- 
ble, and seemingly interminable ; and yet so certain 
is the retribution attendant on offences, that it may 
be presumed, this unconscious excess of mind rarely 
overflows without the painful after-thought of time 
misemployed — the self-punishment of merited dis- 
respect. 

As inferiority is no less fatigued by the necessity 
of listening too long, than by the compulsion of ad- 
miring too much ; also as each brings to the social 
scene his whole stock of understanding, no one can 
chuse, however small that stock, to have it hidden 
by arrogance, as if a single talent were always des- 
tined to be BURIED IN A NAPKIN. 



59 



98. 

There are persons of knowledge, and of mind, 
with faculties to please, to persuade, and to inform ; 
but, in defiance of such faculties, or as deriving pleas- 
ure from Displeasing, these are seen individually in 
society, silently detached, and seemingly scornful ; 
or, if deigning to converse, satirical, personal, and 
dogmatical, as if born to inflict and to endure ; for 
insolence and suffering are usually inseparable. 

This sort of sapient misanthropy, which is in effect 
neither brilliant nor instructive, may frequently be 
detected in the unsuccessful fortune hunter, the dis- 
appointed statesman, the half reasoning unbeliever, 
and the uncharitable zealot ; as theirs, but not theirs 
exclusively. 



CHARACTER FROM LIFE. 

IN REPLY TO THE QUESTION " WHY DOES NO ONE LIKE WHOM 

EVERY ONE ADMIRES?" 

VARRO. 



With that commanding strength of brain. 
Which right and wrong obey, 

True to a voice whose forceful strain, 
Impels the will away. 

With beauty's blessing on his face. 
Eyes that with genius shine ; 

Each well proportioned limb, a grace 
Which flattery calls divine. 



60 



With wealth, whose still increasing store, 
Ten thousand joys might claim, 

Station, to taste the sweets of power, 
In honours, wealth and fame. 

Say, why does Varro live unblessed, 

Why not one heart commend 
Him ? who of every gift possessed, 

But kindness and a friend. 

Not one to like, whom all admire, 
All praise, hut none approve ? — 

Though frost may wake the electric fire, 
It cannot kindle love. 

Cold is that dark and doubtful mind, 
Gloomed by the clouds of care, 

And colder to himself confined, 
The good that labours there. 

Thus winning to the dazzled sight, 

The polish'd marble shows, 
Fair as the pale moon's silver light, 

But hard as trackless snows. 

With warmth, the hard cold marble prove. 

It owns the kind controul ; 
But what the stony heart can move, 

Or thaw the frozen soul ! 



61 



MAUDLA. 

THE CARELESS SINNER TURNED PERSECUTING SAINT, PARTLY IMITATE* 

FROM THE FRENCH. 



When Maud was young, her deeds were bad, 

Of aged Maud the ways are sad ; 

That sin which charmed her earlier eyes, 

Now from her hideous figure flies, 

And since that Satan tempts no more, 

She to her God unlocks the door ; 

As if what tophet loathes and leaves, 

Heaven and its angel host receives, 

And ugliest sin were welcome there, 

Where all is good, and all is fair ; 

Thus to the rancorous heart is given 

The hope of blessedness and heaven, 

Even as the cankering reptiles come, 

To where the peach unfolds its bloom : 

And from the veriest trash may rise, 

The bright carnation's fragrant dyes.* 

49. 

Persons of rank and real consequence, if they have 
sense, are seldom tenacious of Extraordinary cere- 
mony, that is, in Ordinary intercourse. Their sta- 
tion being understood, its legitimate rights are un- 
derstood also. 

Hence the truly great are of deportment more 



* The character from the French prose, and that which precedes it, were 
a task imposed on the author at the city of Washington, unappropriate, and 
certainly without the least intended personality. 



62 

yielding than exacting, less distant than familiar ; 
while the Ordinary and the purse-proud, jealous 
and apprehensive, arrogate every thing, and re- 
ciprocate nothing ; as if anxious to obtain that sort 
of lip-service, whose offering of milk and honey the 
presence of wealth may compel ; but absence, like a 
sorcerer, as often changes to the bitterness of re* 
proach, or to the acidity of sarcasm. 

Thus is nature found to re-assert her rights, caus- 
ing most things of this world to feel and to find their 
proper level, whether of Ordinary or Extraor- 
dinary. 



lines TO 
JOHN C. WARREN, M. D. 

OF BOSTON, MASS. 



- u Known, 



^Less by his fathers glories than his own." 



Warren ! thy name to every patriot dear, 
Seems an immortal charm to genius given, 
In the bold annals of an empire famed, 
In the firm records of her wisdom, prized ; 
— A star, whose path is glory — while on thee 
The rays descend, reflected and reflective. 
For thou hast nature's wealth — treasures of mind; 
Enlarged by every high and great endowment. 
Which culturing art, and lettered lore bestow, 
Even mid thy bloom of years ; fruits ripe as autumn ; 
And as the youthful summer's earliest ray, 



63 



Bounteous — were seen, in life's fair morn mature 

As in the high and full meridian hour, 

Of manhood's bright and proud pre-eminence. 

Envied, admired, approved, but most beloved, 
Since all the sacred charities that bless, 
With every finer elegance, that lives 
In look, or form, or accent, are thine own. 

Behold the rescued victim of disease, 
Him, whom thy stedfast eye and powerful hand, 
Pitying, have pained, and saved through many a suffering, 
He, mid the moan of anguish, murmurs blessings, 
While one of mental malady the prey, 
She whose hurt brain, and ever quivering nerve, 
Invite the great detroyer ; she has hailed 
Thee, gentlest of the gentle, — not more prized 
For science, than for virtues, heaven awarded. 

Go on, and in the path where peril dwells, 
Meet happiness — that path by genius trod, 
Is strewed with honours — thy true heritage, 
But most enriched by thee — graceful and graced, 
In all the high nobility of nature. 

100. 

That great artist, Salvator Rosa, has some*- 
where said, " that nature seemed to have formed 
him solely to make an experiment how far human 
suffering could go." 

And yet this Complaining man had genius, pat- 
ronage, friends and success — all insufficient to awak- 
en gratitude, or to stifle discontent ; for, morally 
speaking, repletion has its hunger, and its wants, 
equally with inanity and distress ; whence we may 
estimate the virtues and the blessings of patience, 



64 

submission and forbearance, which, born of humility, 
live in the heart, subdue the passions, and regulate 
the utterance. 

Or of what avail is Complaining? Do the pros- 
perous hearken and heed ? Can the miserable res- 
cue and assist ? 

If the mind suffer, bid it endure. Is the heart 
bruised, let it not break ; — rather let both look up 
and search out their resources. These are, talents, 
fortitude, resignation, and above all, industry. 

101. 

Jesting is not wit, and yet a good jest, elicited of 
gaiety and capacity, fails not to please even what it 
touches. 

But a Jest, poor and personal, and cankered by 
malice, though like a very dull dagger, without point 
or polish, may be enabled to strike deep, and cru- 
elly wound the nerves of self-love and sensibility, 
forcing us to forget, under the many grievances of 
human life, that honour and victory belong to the 
patient wisdom of self-controul. While defeat and 
contempt follow and fall on the wordy violence of 
recrimination. 

102. 

Does not the word Interesting bring an idea in 
positive contrast with that of Interest ? for the af- 
flicted are usually more interesting than the affluent, 
to whose station interest seems indissolubly allied. 
Likewise the amiable, the sensible, and the pretty, 



65 

in obscure stations, are always interesting to the 
tender and the generous. 

The result is, that the timid, the distressed and the 
beautiful, constitute the Interesting, however rejec- 
ted by the great world of interest, offering suppli- 
cation, and following with sacrifices the worship of a 
blind divinity, led on by the hand of chance to the 
proud mansion, rather than to the lowly bower* 

Yet there, even in that lowly bower, may the rich 
gifts of kinder nature be found ; as if in requital to 
remunerate those on whom fortune has frowned, and 
prosperity had slighted. 

103. 

Next to the beauty of virtue, is that of Happiness \ 
causing the eye to speak unutterable things, the com- 
plexion to bloom, and the countenance to open and 
brighten, and harmonize with that look of heaven 
which stamps the human face divine. 

Goodness is often known to exist without Happi- 
ness ; but never did the angel of felicity illume the 
features of the wicked. 

104. 

Happiness may be defined a tranquil sensation, not 
to be confounded with the impetuous tumults of 
Pleasure ; while that is incompatible with the vio- 
lence of the passions, this seems in its extravagance, 
to have no other origin. That is not versatile, nei- 
ther is it liable to satiety ; this unequal and transi- 



66 

tory — that, social and participating ; this, frequently 
selfish, may exist uncommunicated. 

Happiness lives in the soul, and is closely unit- 
ed with the moral and mental capacities. Plea- 
sure, principally confined to the senses, disregards 
sentiment, and is not always allied to the virtues. 

Positively contrasted, yet possibly united, these 
are often mistaken for each other, and yet more of- 
ten blended, appropriated and applied to the empty 
honours of station, and to the yet more empty minds 
of individuals, as incapable of understanding the best 
properties of Pleasure, as they are of possessing the 
true principles of Happiness. 

105. 

If on earth happiness exist, it is in the breast of 
the Tranquil. Whether from the blessing of na- 
ture, the kindness of fortune, or the virtue of sub- 
dued passions, Tranquillity is goodness, and it is 
happiness. 

Of those who seemingly have drained the chal- 
ice of affliction even to its very dregs, should it be 
permitted them but to taste the transient cup of pros- 
perity ; to such will usually belong the grateful af- 
fections, the tender mercies, the tranquil humility of 
mildness. 

For Tranquillity and its mental beauty is most 
near and best understood by him, from whose soul 
the shaft of severe sorrow is withdrawn ; its wounds 
healed, and its hopes restored even in this world of 
pain and perturbation. 

Serene and merciful, in reverting to himself, he 



67 

sympathises with those who suffer, and is, even un- 
der the very interest of self-love, social, participating, 
and disinterested. 

106. 

Truly there is Attraction in the gay excess of 
animal spirits, which often appertains to early youth, 
but what can equal the enchantment of bashful sen- 
sibility, timidly retreating from that applause which 
the young blush of beauty never fails to command. 

The brilliant and laughing hoyden will please, for 
what is there in fair and guileless youth which does 
not ? To her belongs the homage of mortal fascina- 
tion, Avhile to the tender dignity of tranquil loveli- 
ness, a kind of devotion is offered, as to a saint or 
an angel. 



STANZAS 

TO MY LATE LOVELY AND BELOVED DAUGHTER CHARLOTTE, AT THE 

AGE OF FIFTEEN. 



As round that pure unruffled stream, 
Which loves the lonely vale to lave, 

More rich the bordering nowrets seem, 
Reflected by the lucid wave : 

So, in the charms which deck thy form, 
The graces of thy soul we find ; 

That blush, from nature's pencil warm, 
Is but the bounty of thy mind. 



(58 

That voice, which like the western breeze, 
With balmy health and softness fraught, 

Each animated sense to please, — 

Was from thy heavenly temper caught. 

And though thy bosom's sacred throne, 

The whiteness of the dove impart, 
Even that the critic stern must own, 

Is not more faultless than thine heart. 

The finished form— the speaking eyes, 

To sense and diffidence are due, 
While that their brilliant beam supplies, 

Erom this the modest graces grew. 

No longer then the lover train, 

Shall boast that blooming charms alone 

Can with despotic empire reign, 

And make the conquered soul their own : 

But gazing on thy perfect face, 

To all thy beauteous self resigned, 
Shall in that faithful mirror trace 

Each finer feature of thy mind. 

107. 

Were Women more tolerant of each other, they 
would inevitably obtain from the best portion of the 
other sex, more individual regard, and higher person- 
al consideration; since remembering that the weak 
and the worthless live by expedients, that of de- 
traction is understood by the man of sense simply as 
such, and of course, its heaviest weight usually re- 
coils upon the arm by which it is wielded* 



69 



108. 

Love, always attracted by Beauty, feels and fol- 
lows its charm, even from the palace to the cottage ; 
to which last, he too often comes like the destroying 
angel, bringing moral deformity, personal blight, and 
lasting repentance; while, for more elevated sta- 
tions, the evil spirit of envy, hatred, jealousy and de- 
traction is prepared, and reigns triumphant, until the 
fresh rose withers, and the poor heart is broken 
down to unmerited adversity. 

109. 

Adversity thus appears the attendant on Beauty, 
severe, but instructive : her paths are not paths of 
pleasantness, but they lead to peace. 

This should reconcile the plain featured, and hum- 
ble the more perfect, since honour and happiness 
are the goal and the guerdon of every stage and sta- 
tion of human existence. 

110. 

There are, in our pilgrimage upon this earth, afflic- 
tions so deep, injuries so cruel, and destitutions so 
severe, that were it not for that religious Trust 
in heaven, cherished by adversity, assisting forti- 
tude, and rewarding its endurance, the light of ev- 
ery passing day would disclose individual victims, 
sunk in despair, driven to insanity, or lost by suicide. 

A Trust, derided by the Infidel, and neglected by 
the many, yet probably tending to preserve the mor- 
al, mental, and animal existence of the largest por- 
tion of the thinking world. 



70 



STANZAS TO 

DISAPPOINTMENT. 



Offspring of earth ! whose sullen eye, 

Glooms with the still increasing care, 
Why throw thy mad glance on the sky ! 

Why court the curse that hovers there. 

Whether of luckless love thy claim, 

To chill the warm heart's passion' d glow, 

Or under friendship's treacherous name, 
To strike the meditated hlow. 

Or when ambition upward springs, 

Conscious of fortune's vernal ray, 
To clip the young hope's soaring wings, 

And snatch the tasted joy away : 

Whether on lucre's toiling train 

Thou turn thy hard and heavy form, 
While scorn redoubles every pain, 

That breaks the wearied spirit down : 

Or on retarded justice wait, 

Where slow Potomactfs waters roll, 
Assume the answering nod of state, 

And reach the Georgian's harrowed soul :* 

* The Georgian. — Intended to designate that company of unfortunate 
citizens, who had been induced to purchase a large tract of country in the state 
of Georgia; which purchase being disputed as illicit, or illegal, the suppli- 
cants were seen every season, returning from the great city on the Poto- 
mack, to their desolate homes, unanswered, and unrequited — for the most 
part ruined, ere partial redress was awarded. 



71 

Still dreaded, and still dreadful known, 
Thine is the broad and phrenzied stare ; 

And thine the deep and deadly groan, 
Which lead thy victim to despair. 

Has not thy coldly grasping fold, 

Strong as the serpent's venomed twine. 

Known this quick nerve of life to hold, 
Till every stagnant pulse was thine. 

Though wide as earth thy crushing sway, 
Child of the world ! to that confined, 

One heavenly hope shall charm away 

Thy wrongs — and heal the suffering mind. 

Hope, kind preserver ! angel power, 

Wilt thou the imprisoned spirit free ! 
In disappointment's palsying hour, 

Turn thy electric glance on me. 

111. 

To complain of and find fault with all, is to confess 
that we have neither friends nor comforts; and fur- 
ther, it evinces that we do not deserve to have them. 

112. 

Avarice sharpens the senses, and blunts the un- 
derstanding ; if its wariness subdue the violence of 
temper, its agitations add to fretfulness, and increase 
the coldness of suspicion, even as frost is found to 
irritate ere it benumb the nerve of life ; and like 
that, in expanding its proper self, Avarice breaks 
and ruins all by which it is surrounded. 

Who would covet the golden hoard of Ava- 
rice, that considers the cost and the sacrifice ?■ the 
passions it creates, the consolations it denies, the 



72 

blessings it annihilates ; what being is more isolated 
than the parsimonious, more pitiable than the mi- 
serly, or more wretched than the usurer, who preys 
upon human existence like the locust upon vegeta- 
ble life, sparing neither the leaf, the blossom, nor 
the fruit ; hence the anguish of his many fears, the 
sordidness of his few hopes ; even the insanity which 
he invites and invigorates, hardening the heart, de- 
praving the moral mind, and contracting the mental 
perception to a single sharp point of over-reaching 
sagacity; while in his utmost rapaciousness he ap- 
proaches so near to fraud, that the sword of Damo- 
cles is seemingly suspended by a single hair over the 
atrocity of intention. 

In fine, friendless and pining — amid plenty exiled 
by poverty ; with wealth arrested by want, and com- 
fort crushed by care ; a life of disrepute, and a death 
of destitution — waited for, wished for, and at last ex- 
ulted in, are the portion, and the punishment, which 
usually attend and terminate the miseries of indivi- 
dual Avarice ; while contempt or abhorrence remains 
engraven on the marble of his memory. 

113. 

" Benefits are never lost," according to the Span- 
ish proverb ; and surely there is no moral that con- 
tains more truth. 

The most ungrateful cannot, even by the mighti- 
est effort, forget the kindness bestowed, nor the 
benefit accepted. The very endeavour adds to the 
impossibility. 

Hence to remind the offender by recurring to re- 
proach, were as useless as unwise, cancelling obliga- 



tion, and changing the indifference or distaste of his 
already humiliated mind, into resentment and per- 
sonal antipathy. 

If our intention were truly generous, or really 
compassionate, the pleasure of that intention is its 
own reAvard, and on ourselves the Benefit has not 
been lost ; but were the motive ostentation with 
vain glory, disappointment in the object is a just and 
perhaps inadequate punishment, unless productive of 
moral amendment, when the ultimate benefit will 
surely remain. 

Thence are the blessings of benefaction never lost, 
even when they chance to descend on the unwor- 
thy ; for reverting back to him who has bestowed, 
the utility rests, and will continue there, if he b*ing 
home to the question of his own mind, the scrutiny 
of motive, the admonition of conscience, the lesson 
of self-knowledge, and above all, the moral feli- 
city of self-approbation. 

114* 

How many virtues, how much talent, what beau* 
ty, grace, refinement and benefit, are united with, 
and linked together in one chain, by the single word, 
Utility ? 

Of virtue and of talent the Utility remains un- 
questioned : and yet are not those features of exterior 
beauty, whose divine expression is irresistible as a 
charm, that easy and dignified grace which seems 
born to command, and to delight, those refinements 
that embellish existence; are not these also of Util- 
ity? next in degree to virtue, and to talent? 

Are not the moral tendencies of the lovely and 
10 



74 

the amiable, to civilize, to conciliate and to harmo*- 
nize ? Is not the object of their influence, happi- 
ness ? and does there not exist in happiness- — moral 
and mental happiness — Utility ? 

In the fine and powerful touches of nature, and of 
art — equally perceptible, and alike forcible in the 
mellow glow of evening, in the last and best finish 
of genius, in the graceful repose of loveliness, and in 
the commanding eloquence of energy and of action ; 
in these, and in all, that like these, attract, endear 
and instruct, there is Utility. Even as the beau- 
tiful Relievo of the Pedestal, just rising above 
the lowliness of earth, and giving but the miniature 
of events, bears and brings the history and the char- 
acter of glory, no less than the lofty arch and the 
sublime column of victory. 

In fine, all that pleases in society, all that warms 
in affection, all that enriches in art, invigorates in 
genius, and exalts in virtue, is Utility; enabling us to 
endure the cruelly oppressive burden of human suf- 
fering — even of human life ; if not remedy, resource ; 
if not happiness, recreation, consolation, serenity and 
comfort, 

TO MR. STUART. 

UPON SEEING THOSE PORTRAITS WHICH WERE PAINTED BY HIM AT PHI- 
LADELPHIA, IN THE BEGINNING OH THE PRESENT CENTURY. 



Stuart, thy Portraits speak ! — with skill divine 
Round the light graces flows the waving line ; 
Expression in its finest utterance lives, 
And a new language to creation gives. 



75 



Each varying trait the gifted artist shows, 
Wisdom majestic in his bending brows ; 
The warrior's open front, his eye of fire — 
As where the charms of bashful youth retire. 
Or patient, plodding, and with wealth content, 
The man of commerce counts his cent per cent, 
'Tis character that breathes, 'tis soul that twines 
Round the rich canvass, traced in living lines. 
Speaks in the face, as in the form display' d, 
Warms in the tint, and mellows in the shade. 
Those touching graces, and that front sublime, 
Thy hand shall rescue from the spoil of time. 
Hence the fair victim scorns the threat'ning rage, 
And stealing step, of slow advancing age. 
Still on her cheek the bright carnation blows, 
Her lip's deep blush its breathing sweetness shows. 
For like the magic wand, thy pencil gives 
Its potent charm, and every feature lives. 

Even as the powerful eye's transcendant ray, 
Bends its soft glance and bids the heart obey. 
Thy fine perceptions flow, by heaven designed, 
To reach the thought, and pierce the unfolded mind. 
Through its swift course the rapid feeling trace, 
And stamp the sovereign passion on the face. 

Even owe, by no enlivening grace arrayed, 
One, born to linger in affliction's shade, 
Hast thou, kind artist, with attraction dressed, 
With all that nature in her soul expressed. 

Go on, and may reward thy cares attend ; 
— The friend of genius must remain thy friend. 
Though sordid minds with impious touch presume, 
To blend thy laurel with the cypress gloom. 
With tears of grief its shining leaves to fade ; 
Its fair hope withering in the cheerless shade, 



76 



The well-earned meed of liberal praise deny, 
And on thy talents gaze with dubious eye. 

Genius is sorrow's child — to want allied — - 
Consoled by glory, and sustained by pride, 
To souls sublime her richest wreath she owes, 
And loves that fame which kindred worth bestows. 



INSCRIPTION, 



FOR THE PORTRAIT OF FISHER AMES, PAINTED CON AMORE BY 

STUART. 



Such is the man !— inspired the artist wrought, 
And reached with soaring mind his flight of thought. 
Then bid the brow's reflective calm declare, 
Majestic honour dwells unquestioned there. 

Mild from that eye the rays of kindness flow, 
Warm on those lips the words of fervour glow, 
Yet with persuasion's pensive charm appear, 
To win the plaudit of a nation's tear.* 
Sublime of soul ! in speaking features shine, 
Feeling's fine flame, and eloquence divine. 

Such is the man ; beheld, approached, approved J 
Born to excel— yet less admired than loved. 

# See his pathetic speech on the British Treaty, as published iri his works. 



77 



SONG. 

WRITTEN AT u THE WOODLANDS," THE SEAT OF WILLIAM HAMILTON, ESQ; 
UPON THE SCHUYLKILL. 



" How sweet through the woodlands," in spring's jocund hour. 
To catch the first breeze which unfolds the wild flower. 
Adown the green slopes the rich landscape survey, 
Where Schuylkill prolongs his meandering way. 

More dear in that mansion's retreat from the plains, 
While rapture in silent expression remains. 
To rest where the arts and the virtues unite, 
Without, all enchantment, within all delight. 

Most welcome that face, so benignant in smiles, 
That voice, which the care of the stranger beguiles. 
Those graces, where genius combining the whole, 
On the features of nature imprinted his soul. 

All hail, ye fair scenes ! and you, slow winding wave, 
As unwilling to quit the fond banks that you lave. 
Still heave your full bosom, where shining around. 
The altar of taste is with tenderness crowned, 



78 



INSCRIPTIONS. 

Jntended for a little Island upon the Schuylkill, belonging to the 
proprietor of the Woodlands ; at whose request the following 
were hastily written. 



FOR A SARCOPHAGUS, ERECTED TO THE MEMORY OF SHENSTONE. 
BY WILLIAM HAMILTON, ESQ. 



While curious art and careless nature smile, 
Thy memory, Shenstone, claims this fairy isle ; 
Seen like a gem amid the clasping wave, 
Where lavished wealth such emerald lustre gave, 
Thy muse demands ! and kindred taste bestows, 
Haunts where the loves in shadowy calm repose. 
Or in the living blush of beauty shine, 
On scenes as graced, and hearts as charmed as thine 
Each woodland warbler seems his groves among, 
To chaunt thy requiem in a richer song. 
While thy enamoured spirit, hovering near, 
Finds of thy life the inspiring genius here. 



inscription 

FOR AN ARBOUR, OR RUSTIC SEAT ON THE ISLAND. 



Stranger, this green and graced retreat, 
Spreads all its wealth for thee, 

Be thine the richly pictured scene , 
Hill, valley, walk, and tree. 



79 



Thine be yon smoothly winding stream, 

Whose silent waters move, 
Unruffled as a good man's breast, 

Reflecting heaven above. 

Or thine the tossing tide, so fond 

Its golden curls to raise, 
When touched by day's departing flame,. 

It sparkling, seems to blaze. 

Thine, if by taste and nature won, 

These to thy glance appear 
In all the beauties genius gave, 

To plant attraction here. 

Hast thou a soul to feeling true^ 
Stay, Wanderer, nor depart, 

A nobler gift meets thy regard, 
Even his, the Patron's heart. 



PHILADELPHIA, 

AN ELEGY. 

WRITTEN AT THE MOST DESOLATING PERIOD OP THE FATAL PESTE 
LENCE OF THE YELLOW FEVER. 



Imperial daughter of the west, 

Why thus in widowed weeds recline ? 

With every gift of nature blest, 
The empire of a world was thine. 

Late, brighter than the star that gleams, 
Ere the soft morning carol flows ; 

Now, mournful as the maniac's dreams. 
When melancholy rules his woes, 



8(1 



What foe, with more than Gallic* ire, 
Has thinned thy city's thronging way 5 

Bid the sweet breath of youth expire, 
And manhood's powerful pulse decay. 

No Gallic foe's ferocious band, 
Fearful as fate, as death severe, 

But the destroying angel's hand, 
With hotter rage, with fiercer fear. 

I saw thee in thy pride of days, 

In glory rich, in beauty fair, 
When Morris! partner of thy praise, 

Sustained thee with a patron's care : 

Have hailed that hospitable dome, 
Where all the cultured virtues grew, 

Fortune, and fashion's graceful home, 
Warm hearted love, and friendship true. 

Columbia's genius ! veil thy brow, 
Angel of mercy ! hither bend, 

The prayer of misery meets thee now. 
With healing energy descend. 

Chase the hot fiend whose sallow tread 
Consumes the fairest flower that blows. 

Fades the sweet lilly's bashful head, 
And blights the blushes of the rose. 

Even now his omen'd birds of prey, 
Through the unpeopling mansions rove, 



* This Elegy was first published during the extirpating reign of the ty- 
rant Robespierre. 

t The Honourable R. Morris, who from the indiscretion of individuals^ 
and by the disasters of commerce, was compelled to exchange the hospitality 
of his superb mansion for the dreariness of a prison. 



81 

Have quenched the soft eye's heavenly ray, 
And closed the breezy lip of love. 

Yet guard that friend, who wandering near 
Haunts, which the loitering Schuylkill laves, 

Bestows the tributary tear, 

Or fans with sighs the drowsy waves. 

And while his mercy-dealing hand, 

Feeds many a famished child of care, 
Wave round his brow thy saving wand, 

And breathe new freshness through the air. 

While borne on health's elastic wing, 

Afar the rapid whirlwind flies, 
The bracing gale of Zembla bring, 

And bleach with frost the blackening skies. 

Where shelving to the heated coast, 

With frowns the dusky piles* ascend, 
Bid some Alcides, freedom's boast, 

His heaven-assisted arm extend. 

Beneath his firm collected blow, 

Wasteful the cumbrous ruin lies, 
Till Dryads bring each breathing bough, 

And bid the green plantation rise. 

Thence the light poplar's tapering form. 

The oak his building branches rears, 
The elm, that braves the cleaving storm^ 

The fragrant pine's prolific tears. 

i ■ ■ " ■ ■ • — ' ■ ■ 

* Water street, which in the original plan of the city, by its illustrious foun- 
der, was to have been laid out in plantations of trees, with regular walks, 
equally conducive to health and recreation. This benevolent appropriation 
having been anticipated by the speculations of avarice, this spot, as if in di- 
vine vengeance, has become the most fatal location of the pestilence. 

11 



82 



While every leaf expands a shade, 
Beneath whose breeze contagion dies. 

Full many a youth and blushing maid, 
Gaze, grateful, with enamoured eyes. 

He, who the loved asylum gave, 

Even thus the parent-founder said, — 

Now whispered from the wakening grave, 
Ah ! heed the mandate of the dead. 

And bid the Naiads bring their urns, 
Haste ! — and the marble fount unclose, 

Through streets where Syrian summer burns,- 
Till all the cool libation flows. 

Cool as the brook that bathes the heath, 
When noon unfolds his silent hours, 

Refreshing as the morning's breath, 
And genial as are vernal showers. 

From waves the heavenly Venus grew, 
Those waves to mortal beauty kindj 

The flush of fragrant health renew, 
And brace the nerve-enfeebled mind. 

Imperial daughter of the west, 
No rival wins thy wreath away, 

In all the wealth of nature drest, 
Again thy sovereign charms display. 

See all thy setting glories rise, 

Again thy thronging streets appear, 

Thy mart an hundred ports supplies, 
Thy harvest feeds the circling year. 



83 



STANZAS. 

TO THE HON. ROBERT LISTON, MINISTER PLENIPOTENTIARY FROM GREAT 
BRITAIN, UPON HEARING HIM AT HIS DEPARTURE, LAMENT THAT 
U AMERICA HAD NO POETS." 



Though on Columbia's bleak uncultured shore 5 
With languid step the ungenial muses rove, 

'Tis her's, the bounds of ocean to explore, 
And with the spirit of thine Albion move. 

Though not for her the stream of science flow, 
'Tis her's the nobler virtues to command, 

To seek the gems of genius where they glow, 
And deal her tribute with unsparing hand. 

Liston, 'tis her's with truth's enamoured eye, 
Like a near friend, whom fortune dooms to part. 

Still at thy name to breathe affections sigh, 
And wear thy graces graven on her heart. 

For thou hast wisdom to attract the wise, 
Temper, whose sun-shine with benignant ray 

Commands the florid smile of joy to rise, 
And bids the frowning storm of hate decay. 

An empire's glory claims thy filial care, 

While from thy dome the fiend of party flies, 

For all the amities inhabit there, 

And there the spirit of contention dies. 

JStill may Britannia on thy genius smile, 

And still Columbia's kindred voice approve, 

Rewards await thee from the glorious isle, 

While younger nations crown them with their love 



84 



115. 

To receive and repay the pathetic appeal of sor- 
row, with the cold caution of Silent reserve, is im- 
plied disregard, or intentional contempt ; less kind, 
and more comfortless than admonition and reprimand ; 
for admonition and reprimand, rooted in affect ion, 
may grow into solicitude, and bring forth the fruits of 
good-will ; but silence, cold and reserved silence, re- 
fusing participation, and escaping responsibility, seem- 
ingly consents to, or is not affected by the anguish of 
the sufferer. 



BATAVIA, 

AN ELEGY. 

WRITTEN UPON THE UNRESISTED SUBJUGATION OF THE UNITED PRO- 
VINCES TO THE FRENCH REVOLUTIONISTS. 



Degenerate race, ye lost Batavians, say, 

Where is the blood that warmed the patriot's veins ? 
When in your great first William? s glorious day, 

Invading armies fled the unconquered plains ? 

Where is that spirit of your hardy sires, 
Which turned indignant from a foreign lord, 

And where that hope, a country's cause inspires, 
The stateman's virtue, and the warrior's sword ? 

The swarthy Gaul now claims the willow'd meads, 
Where your famed fathers, patient, proud and poor, 

Stampt their bold annals with triumphant deeds, 
And learnt the trying lesson to endure. 



85 



Ye sons of traffic ! lost Batavians, say, 
Does the hard victor heed the captive's moan, 

Can the fierce wolf resign his trembling prey, 
Nor make the rich luxurious treat his own. 

Who calls the shaggy monarch of the wood, 
To yield the fleecy fold his fostering care ! 

No more to quench his burning lip in blood, 
But learn with tasteless apathy to spare ? 

Thus shall ye thrive beneath the victor's sway, 
And thus the fierce Exotic guard your coast, 

Who flung with careless hand, a prize away, 
Richer than all your conquerM country's boast. 

Transcendant Freedom, offspring of the soil, 
Ne'er can an alien's hand that gem bestow, 

Whose brilliant rays reward the patriot's toil, 
Grace his bold front, and on his bosom glow. 



ELEGY. 

TO THE MEMORY OF MARIE ANTOINETTE, THE UNFORTUNATE QUEEN OF 
LOUIS THE 16TH, OF FRANCE. WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY UPON HEAR- 
ING OF THE EVENT OF HER DEATH, 



'Tis past — the agonizing pang is o'er, 
And thou, fair faded shadow of a queen, 

Shalt bend that supplicating eye no more, 
While spurning insult rears his ruffian mien. 

No more the sighing breeze of dawn shall bear, 
The sentenced murder to thy harrowed soul, 

No more the night, close curtained by despair, 
Bid the deep whelming flood of anguish rolh 



86 



No more remembrance to thy blasted view, 

Recal the morning of thy troubled day, 
When hope around the lovely landscape threw, 

Spring's changeless robe, and summer's cloudless ray. 

Set is thy star of life— the pausing storm, 

Turns its black deluge from that wearied head, 

The fiends of murder quit that bloodless form, 
And the last animating hope is fled. 

Blest is the hour of peace — though curs'd the hand, 
That snaps the thread of life's disastrous loom, 

Thrice blest, the great invincible command, 

Which deals the solace of the slumbering tomb. 

Let those whom long adopted sorrows own, 
On whom the cruel strokes of fate descend, 

On whom the happy race of mortals frown, 
And stern affliction strips of many a friend : 

Those who at Cynthia's melancholy hour, 

While the slow night-clock knells its mournful sound- 
Have waked to weep, with unavailing power, 

The cureless pang of many a mental wound : 

Let the wrapt mother, who, with phrenzied mind, 
Saw her last cherub feed the hungry tomb — 

Or her, whose heart its peerless lord resigned, 
And gave to cankering grief her vernal bloom : 

Let all who fondly clasp the form of woe, 
And boast that every featured ill is theirs, 

On Gallia's Queen one patient hour bestow, 
And turn to heaven with penitence and prayers. 

Did'st thou, poor mourner, grace yon lilied throne* 
Fair as the youthful poet's pictured dream, 

While round thy days the light of fortune shone, 
And warmed a nation with its dazzling beam ? 



87 



Ah no — vain ingrate — nature's boundless page, 
On the chilled sense no equal horror throws — 

One dread example blots a lettered age, 
That scene abhorred, a polished realm bestows. 

What though affliction's petrifying sway, 
Has bid thy heart its kindling pulse forego, 

Has torn of life the vital hope away — 
And left thee as a monument of woe : 

Yet call the roses to thy faded cheek, 

With the mind's lustre light the languid eye> 

Cloathe the vex'd soul with resignation meek, 
And bid the labouring, lingering murmur die. 

Why should the wretch, upon whose visual orb. 
The Lord of brightness never poured his ray, 

Repine, when darkness folds her nightly robe, 
At the swift transit of the changeful day ? 

Can the poor worm who clasps his speck of earth, 
While on his head the crushing bolt is hurl'd, 

Like yon bright offspring of celestial birth, 
Command the plaudit of a pitying world ? 

Say, wert thou sent to fill this stormy scene, 
Freed from the icy touch of withering care ?— - 

Then think of loyal Gallia's worship'd Queen, 
And learn thy little drop of woe to bear. 

Ah then, thou selfish mourner^ cease to grieve, 
If to thine heart one orphan hope remain, 

With grateful lip the precious boon receive. 
As the sweet solace for a world of pain, 



88 



116. 

Hyperbole is a language of inflated words, rooted 
in, and growing from the union of impetuous feeling 
^with shallow understanding — mighty of utterance, 
few and feeble in ideas. A skeleton figure, tricked 
out in gorgeous apparel— a vapoury cloud, which 
the ignorant mistake, and admire, and embrace as a 
goddess. A thing of passion and presumption, which 
usually adhering to narrowness of mind, is the true 
offspring of violence and vanity. 

Unlike the simple eloquence of plain good sense, 
and inspired genius, which in the clear sun-shine of 
mental elevation, is seen by every eye, and compre- 
hended by every capacity ; for that simple elo- 
quence is the language of truth, evident and pure, 
and powerful as the language of nature, easy of ex- 
pression, and sublime in conception. 

Hyperbole, forced and factitious, may astonish the 
foolish, but can never impose on the wise. It search- 
es, and contrives and agitates, and ends in absur- 
dity — while striving by the glitter of profusion to hide 
the poverty of nature, it serves like the sculptured 
marble of the sepulchre, but to remind us of the 
defects and hollowness within. 

And yet it may be insisted that uncivilized na- 
tions in their earliest compositions either of prose or 
verse, have usually been given to Hyperbole. 

Animation of feeling, rudeness of propensity, and 
violence of passion, leading to strength of expres- 
sion and extravagance of metaphor ; these, accompa- 
nied by that simple music, which is, in its origin, the 



89 

only language of universal nature, were made to give 
form and attach character to the untutored senti- 
ment ; at the same time transmitting not an uninter- 
esting contrast to the very tame and exceedingly pol- 
ished productions of other times ; in some instances, 
even extending their influence to the matured im- 
provements, or cultivated taste of the lettered world. 

Thence it will be understood, that in delineating 
the Hyperbolical, as the grotesque, no feature has 
been borrowed from the wood and the wild — but 
the likeness is rather that of those tutored and tortur- 
ed compositions of prose run mad, or of poetry which 
neither runs nor rises, but is seen stalking on stilts, 
or sinking to the very fountain, or rather the pool, 
not of Helicon, but of oblivion. 

Should this be retorted upon the author's self, in 
the very words of the prophetic Nathan to the un- 
conscious king ; then, as even now, would she feel 
and assert, the immutability of truth, the simplicity 
of Genius. 

SONG OF THE RUNIC BARD.* 

THE POWER OF MUSIC IS THUS HYPERBOLICALLY COMMEMORATED BY 
ONE OF THE RUNIC BARDS. 



" I know a Song — by which I soften and enchant 
the arms of my enemies, and render their weapons 
of no effect" 

* See Godwin's life of Chaucer. 

12 



90 

" I know a Song — which I need only to sing when 
men have loaded me with bonds ; for the moment I 
sing it, my chains fall in pieces, and I walk forth in 
liberty," 

" I know a Song — useful to ail mankind ; for as 
soon as hatred inflames the sons of men, the mo^ 
ment I sing it, they are appeased." 

"I know a Song— of such virtue, that were I 
caught in a storm, I can hush the winds, and render 
the air perfectly calm." 

IMITATION, 

fN ENGLISH VERSE, OF THE SONG OF THE RUNIC BARD, 



w I know a Song"— the magic of whose power, 
Can save the warrior in destruction's hour ; 
From the fierce foe his falling vengeance charm. 
And wrest the weapon from his nervous arm. 

2d. 

I know a Song, which when in bonds I lay, 
Broke from the grinding chain its links away, 
While the sweet notes their swelling numbers roll'd, 
Back fly the bolts, the trembling gates unfold, 
Free as the breeze the elastic limbs advance, 
Course the far field, or braid the enlivening dance, 

3d. 

I know a Song, to mend the heart designed, 
Quenching the fiery passions of mankind ; 
When lurking rage, and deadly hate combine, 
To charm the serpent of revenge, is mine. 



91 



4th. 



I know a Song, that when the wild winds blow, 

To bend the monarchs of the forest low, 

If to the lay my warbling voice incline, 

Waking the varied tones with skill divine ; 

Hushed are the gales, the spirit of the storm 

Calms his bleak breath, and smooths his furrowed form, 

The day looks up, the moistened hills serene, 

Through the faint clouds exalt their sparkling green. 



117. 

Anger, in its indulgence, may be classed among 
the most disgraceful and distressing of human infirm- 
ities. 

Disgraceful, because it renders an individual ri- 
diculous, causing convulsion of body, and bringing dis- 
tortion of countenance, not unlike those brutes of the 
Ape and Monkey tribe, which are capable of imi- 
tating man but in his deformities. 

Distressing, because its gratification is horrible, 
its mischief incalculable, and its repentance of no 
avail. 

118. 

Anger in its fury, displays the tyger's heart with- 
out the tyger's necessities, and as even more cruel 
than that animal, the angry man not unfrequently 
turns upon his mate and her young. 

The propensity to violence of every sort, may be 
born with a man, but, provided a sound mind, and a 
kind heart, or the mere power of reflection be his, 
this violence, like most of the diseases to which mor- 



92 

tal life is liable, may, by firmness and regularity, be 
rooted out of the constitution ; since health of mind, 
a blessing more essential to human felicity than 
health of body, is equally acquirable by temperance, 
resolution, and self-controul. 

The young and attractive are cautioned against 
the indulgence of angry feelings, as no less destruc- 
tive of personal than of moral beauty,, for the always 
lovely, are modest, gentle, tender and placable. 

To give ascendency to the furious passions, is 
the seeming infatuation of folly, and to be extenuated 
only by that deficiency ; — passions, which in their ire 
are found to controul and contract, until thev annihi- 
late the finer capacities; for the profound thought 
of an enlarged understanding is incompatible with 
the interrupting emotions of irascibility. 

The words of kindness, like the laws of kindness, 
are temperate, refined, sensible and true ; while 
the hot desert of a ferocious mind, is like that of the 
desolate Arabia, not only the abode of brute violence, 
but in having neither flowers nor fruits, nor kindly 
gifts, nor proper possession, save the striking fire- 
blast* and the sudden vehemence of terrible calamity. 

Yet the constitutional infirmity of anger has its 
remedy, and that remedy its rewards : this sure rem- 
edy, and those certain rewards, if more easily acquir- 
ed by the young, are not unattainable at any period 
of human existence. 



* Samieh, or Samown, or Ilarroun, the burning night wind of the desert, 
dangerous to life, from its infectious odours, and fatal, in suddenly lifting the 
sands and buryieg whole caravans. Blows from June to 21st September. 



93 

Let the man of letters at the first approach of 
the enemy, silently recal to his secret mind, one 
among the many Greek and Latin sentences with 
which his memory is enriched ; the pious, his pray- 
er, a short one ; the fanciful, his verse ; the child 
his alphabet ; and even the most illiterate may nu- 
merically count and recount, until the tormentor is 
no longer felt by him, nor perceptible to others. 

ODE 

FOR THE ELEMENT OF FIRE. 

OD&POSED AT THE REQUEST OF THE CHARITABLE FIRE SOCIETY, AND 
PERFORMED AT KING'S CHAPEL, BOSTON. 



Kind is the gift of fire ! whose power 
Man, with restraining art, shall guide ; 
Friend of his dear domestic hour, 
To all his bosom'd joys allied ; 
While round his heart, with sparkling ray, 
It cheers the shivering stranger's dreary way 

Nor to the social scene alone, 

Does the bright element belong, 
Hence science claims her radiant throne. 
And bears her world of thought along : 
And hence mechanic arts arise, 
Inventive, useful, beautiful, and wise. 

And as to man's imperial kind 

Alone the charm of speech was given. 
Alone the clear, perceptive mind, 
An image of reflected heaven ; 
He dares with ruling hand aspire, 
To wake and win the slumbering life of fire, 



94 

Yet should, with wild unlicensed sway, 

The subject flame rebellious soar, 
No more that ruling hand obey — 
Friend of the social scene no more ; 
Wide breaking with disastrous light, 
Portentous on the curtain'd calm of night : 

Around the wealth embellished dome, 

Bloodless the red destroyer flies ; 
Nor spares the poor man's wedded home, 
Nor heeds the phrenzied parent's cries. 
Though on her wakening senses steal, 
All that a mother's suffering heart can feel. 

To soothe — to save — still hovering near, 

Rich Charity ! thy cares extend, 
With kind, consolatory tear, 

And voice, like pitying heaven, descend 
And help the helpless — and impart 
Love that rewards — and hope that heals the heart. 

119. 

They who rest on Expectation, may be said to 
build upon the quicksands, without foundation and 

without stability. 

To indulge in Expectation, is to prefer uncertain- 
ty, and invite disappointment. 

The present day is ours, and its enjoyments are 
perhaps something, and that something our own; 
but the morrow is to us a non-entity, which exists in 
imagination only ; a thing of promise, without pur- 
pose, of empty hope, and doubtful performance ; a 
dream, a deception, a broken staff — on which to lean 
were probably to fall. 



95. 

The fraudulent debtor says, " I will pay on the 
morrow," and that night his soul is required of him. 

Good intention is the desire, but it is not the ac- 
tion, nor has it the utility of virtue, for intention is 
merely a perspective, without possession ; virtue, a 
home and a heritage, where peace is, and the pas- 
sions — in their violence — are not. 

120. 

The very foolish are sometimes seen resorting to 
Duplicity, in the hope to over-reach, or the desire 
to overthrow ; but in vain, for imbecility may en- 
deavour to try on the cloak of deception, but it will 
not fit, and cannot be so drawn round, as to conceal 
her defects ; simplicity being the true shield of the 
weak, and the real armour of the wise. 

121. 

Whom we consent to Trust, we are willing to be- 
lieve true. Yet the trusted can betray; Truth may 
turn to falsehood, and the violation of principle be 
followed by the outrage of expression. Does justice, 
or will judgment allow the resort of Recrimination % 
do these give permission to tread the crooked path, 
which leads to misconduct, because another, break- 
ing down the land-mark, has trespassed on right, and 
entered on wrong? 

If indignation be not serene, neither is it essen- 
tially severe, but often, by self-subduing quiet, con- 
verts the persecutor into the proselyte ; while Re- 
crimination, confounding the innocent with the guilty, 



96 

frequently occasions the much wronged to be mista- 
ken for the most wrong. 

The man who professes Truth, and abuses Trust, 
teaches a lesson, enforcing a precept, which it were 
better for the injured to study, and beware how he 
con/ides. 

Finally, as it is more difficult to compromise a 
falsehood, than to retrieve an error, it is easier to 
submit than t© contend ; more proper to excuse, 
than to accuse ; and better, even for our own self- 
ish hearts, mentally to endure, than orally to assail ; 
for conscience will speak, when detection frowns ; 
and the swift arrows of punishment be ready, in 
their flight, to descend on the violation of Trust, 
with the Recrimination of injury. 



PARADOXES 



NECESSITY. 



PARADOX L 



™ umerous are the pretences of Necessity — few its 
legitimate claims. 

Whims, fancies, and passions, all bring the plea of 
necessity : Not a perversity of will, not a propen- 
sity of vice, but assumes the sanction of that name, 
or imposes upon that its lawless apology ; while, dep- 
recated and calumniated, real necessity exists but for 
virtue, and for want. 

For Virtue of Necessity, for want by Necessity ; — 
the one divine and durable, the other, miserable and 
mortal ; this bound to earth and suffering — that soar- 
ing to happiness and heaven. 

Necessity is a gift, and her visitations are benefits; 
for they bring reflection, and we rest ; repentance, 
and we reform. Also the consolations of hope come 
by necessity, and we are comforted. 

Even amid the grievous realities of human life, 
by her recollections, and through her precepts, we 
are peaceful, undisturbed and resigned. 
13 



m 

The frowns of fortune, the injustice of calumny, 
the treason of friendship, what are they but thorns, 
and briars, which can vex and weary and annoy our 
path, but cannot arrest its course to felicity, which, 
provided we turn not aside, in deviation from the 
right and straight road, must, even of Necessity, be 
our own. 



ERRING MORTALS. 

PARADOX II. 



I think it was Dean Swift — believing himself ca- 
lumniated — who observed, that the very best peo- 
ple he had ever known, were among th<3 vilified. 

This admitted, it is no less true, that the reviled 
are usually some way in the wrong ; and since wrong 
can never be right, the solecism of this Paradox 
invites explanation. 

If mistake and imprudence call down imputation, 
regret and repentance bring humility ; while enmi- 
ty powerful enmity, in terrifying, controlling and 
subduing, reforms its victim ; thence the deportment, 
the disposition, and the heart, are softened, refined, 
and purified ; the graces appear, the affections are 
attracted, and moral good is born, and it grows out 
of mental evil. 

Thus disciplined, even the vilified may possibly be 
classed among the best of Erring Mortals. 



99 
LOVE AND GLORY. 

PARADOX I1L 

Ardent Love is violent — violent Love, credulous — 
credulous Love, devoted — devoted Love, idolatry ; 
and idolatry, confessedly, either foolishness or insan- 
ity ; hence, as of course, it follows, that every ar- 
dent lover is a lunatic, or an idiot. 

And, in what are the Conquerors of Realms bet- 
ter than the Conquerors of Hearts ? counting from 
the madman of Macedonia, to the equally mad and 
more foolish Swede;* from Corsica's Aveak king- 
Theodore, perishing in the Fleet prison, to the mad 
Corsican-born Emperor Napoleon, dying in the for- 
tress of St. Helena. 

All passion, and most propensities, indulged and 
identified, reach the brain, until touching the narrow 
brink of distraction, they are precipitated down the 
broad abyss of destruction. 

Such is the quick step and final march of the pas- 
sions, controlling and compelling Love and Glory, be- 
gun in vapour, and ending in fire ; passing from weak- 
ness to violence ; sinking from violence to vileness ; 
and from vileness to nothing; where it rests and is 
trodden down with the other dust of the earth. 

* " From Macedonia's madman to the Sivede." 



100 
ZEAL. 

PARADOX IV. 

Zeal is not a vice of the soul, but like every vio« 
lence of the mind, an error in judgment, an indeco- 
rum of copduct, an endeavour after much admira- 
tion and more influence, by which the zealot en- 
dangers the entire loss of those, and of himself also. 

The extravagance of Zeal tends to prostrate the 
calm dignity pf principle. In devotion, it assumes 
the wild features of pagan idolatry ; derogating from 
the tranquil beneyolence of christian precept. In 
every way, and at best, zeal is but a superfluity of 
feeling, if not an excess of passion ; and, where it act- 
ually does not harm, will be found to improve nei- 
ther the manners nor the morals. 

The virtues of faith, charity, and even hope itself, 
Ay ill shin§ brighter, and appear more graceful, un- 
der that kind serenity of temper, and that wise mod- 
eration of mind wfyieh the domination of Zeal refu- 
ses ; but which the meek and modest sensibilities ob- 
serve and which fail not to render their possessor 
loyely or beloved. 



101 



QUIET. 

/ 

PARADOX V. 

Man calls for Quiet, and is clamoroud for its com- 
forts ; when he simply desires rest and invites re- 
covery ; even as he invokes solitude, w.Hen his only 
wish is release and relief, since all agree that it is 
not good to live alone ! 

If by Quiet, we mean stillness and silence, these 
are what no wakeful man could endure, even for a 
few short days, unless he were deprived of two of his 
senses, and all his energies. 

In the deepest recesses of uncultivated nature, we 
have the motion of the leaves and the waves, and 
the notes of the wild bird : man must himself be in 
motion, and emotion also, or he dwells with misery ; 
he must speak, and he must listen ; for he lives and 
loves and enjoys, only when he ceases to rest, and 
is no longer Quiet. 

Unbroken Quiet is the signal of death ; and the 
constitutionally silent and still have apparently less 
of life, either in its pains or its pleasures, than the 
remainder of their species. 

If happiness flee from cities, she is equally averse 
to caves — happiness, which belongs to no extreme, 
and endures no excess. If her dwelling be upon 
earth, it is with the active, the useful, the beneficent 
and the tranquil; who neither rust in the quiet of 
unbroken seclusion, nor irritate under the noise and 
tumult of worldly dissipation. 



102 
LOVE OF COUNTRY. 

PARADOX VL 

Love op Country, is, in the abstract, usually class- 
ed among rhe first duties and the highest principles; 
but rather does it seem a moral necessity, reversing 
the order of nature, since this love does not posi- 
tively result from the associations of beauty, of cul- 
tivations, of comforts, or of protection; for the 
more perilous or bleaks or steril, or severe, are the 
climate, the soil and the government, the more ir- 
resistible is often the enthusiastic attachment of the 
individual to his birth place. 

Do the fatal eruptions, and the burning lava of 
Etna, or Vesuvius, keep the son of the soil from be- 
lieving that he inhabits the paradise of earth? 

Do the rude and stormy mountains of Switzer- 
land, with the privations they impose, render the 
brown and steril steeps less dear to the hardy land 
or roc&-holder, who, if starved into exile, sickens and 
dies, in recurring and recalling to his soul the sim- 
ple melody of his beloved and prohibited " Ranz 
Des Vetches" The Hollander, arresting the soil 
from the Ocean, and himself growing amid fens, 
and breathing the contagion of canals, imitates and 
carries his native scene to whatever spot he inhab- 
its, as if in love with dampness and stagnation. 

Even the poor slave of Africa, although not less a 
slave beneath his own burning sun, is seen to repine 
and perish by the hand of suicide, in the thought, 



103 

and under the hope, of once more visiting the desert 
sands, and again encountering the perils of his long 
lost home. 

The result is, that man is not merely a social ani- 
mal, but also an affectionate being, deriving his best 
happiness from his first remembrances ; from the 
innocent pleasures of infancy, and the caresses of 
maternal love ; and it is living affinities, not proper 
location ; the blessed hilarities of childhood, not the 
strength of maturity, that, in effect, constitute Love 
of Country, and which in leaving, the wanderer 
mourns and dies to regain; even those affinities and 
affections, which, born with the breath of existence, 
concentrate under hardship and in adversity, and are 
neither selfish nor solitary ; for ere civilized or sav- 
age man be capable of alienating these from his 
heart, that heart must chill, and harden and petrify, 
rendering him no less the unnatural tormentor of 
himself, than the unfeeling enemy of his kind. 



ODES TO TIME.* 

ODE h 



Power of the sweeping wing4. 

And wasting sand ! 
Lord of the healing breath I 

And spoiling hand ! 
Whose lengthened fingers fling 
The viewless shafts of death ! 
Beneath whose tread the crumbling marble lies : 
From whose vast hoard unbounded empires rise .: 
Yet rise to fall ! 
While to thy sway and thee 
The sometime victor bends his conquered knee, 
And feels his palsied heart obey thy call ; 
Whose grasp can shake the tyrant from his throne, 
And from his withering temples snatch the tarnished crown 

Magician ! whom all arts obey, 

Now from thy wand is ruin hurled, 
Now a rude outlaw gains imperial sway, 

And a walled acre (1) awes the subject world. 
Thy talisman could Egypt's pillars bow, 
From their broad base her pyramids shall throw, 
While all her faded laurels shade thy brow. 

* These Odes, with trifling alterations, are reprinted from a former publi- 
cation : being first written during the presidency of the now retired patriot; 
John Adams. 



14 



106 



Egypt ! from whom immortal hope (2) arose, 

Beneath whose orient ray, 
Celestial science met the eye of day — 
Where bursting wisdom dawned its earliest beam, 
Ere on the margin of her worshipped stream 
Like a new God the young Papyrus grew, 
And taught instructed realms to lift the adoring view, 
While all the arts on his smooth breast repose ! 
Egypt, where Alexander sleeps in dust, 
Where great Sesotris (3) rears his trophied bust. 
A mouldering pageant and an empty name ; 
While the barbarian Turk her meads deflowers, 
And the wild Arab mocks her murdered powers ; 
Assisting thee to blast her fading fame : 
No more Osiris (4) guards those wasted plains, 
No pean'd Isis (5) strews the golden grains ! 

Proud Xerxes wept to find 
That, ere one fleeting century sunned mankind. 
His million heroes to thy power must bow : 
Vain man ! with all thy treasured radiance shine, 
Nerved with majestic strength — and graced with charms 
divine. 
For the rough sea thy bonds prepare— 
Bid thy frail vassals lash the angry air- 
While thy delusive moments flow— 
And the great conqueror arrests thy care, 
Nor will his lifted scythe those vaunted honors spare ! 
Where is Palmyra } s boast ! 
Where tower'd Zenobia's dome ! 
Where the Chaldean, Syrian, Grecian host! 
Or where thy glorious freedom, laurelled Roms .? 
Ask their great founder, Time — 

Whose plastic hand, 
Where ignorance led his vagrant band. 
In some unlettered clime, 



107 



Now bids the marble of the palace rise, 
With glittering turrets to the bending skies, 
Adorned with infant arts aspiring to their prime. 
Even thus Columbia, o'er whose growing plains, 
Chief of her choice, her Great Civilian (6) reigns; 
Of guiding genius, and controlling hand, 
Firm to resolve, and gentle to command: 
Decided Patriot ! Time for thee prepares 
A crown, uncankered by the rust of years ; 
Haloed by stars, whose varying rays entwine : 
The gift is glory, but the grace is thine. 
While withering millions on far Europe's shore 
Gaze on thy rights, and all their wrongs deplore ; 
From thee shall time the lettered precept give, 
Instruction flow — they drink the stream and live. 

O Virtue ! sovereign of the gifted mind, 
Though erring mortals may reject thy sway, 
Those loved of heaven, the noblest of their kind, 
Are thine, and thine the light that leads their way, 
Opening on life's drear shades a morning ray, — 
Thee shall all ruling Time himself obey ! 



SECOND ODE TO TIME. 



Sire of the silver locks ! to whom 
Creation's crowding myriads come ! 
With pleading eye, and pouring tear, 
Besieging oft thy heedless ear ; 
With adulation bending low, 
And smoothing o'er thy furrowed brow ; 
While senseless age, with bleachened hairs, 
Demands a lengthened lease of years, 
From thee, flushed hectic looks for health, 
From thee, pale avarice grasps at wealth, 
From thee ambition dreams of boundless power ; 



108 

The prisoner waits thy aid to set him free, 
The Chymist yields his crucible to thee ; 
And on thy wings the Poet hopes to soar. 
Even I, my vain petition raise, 
In all the melody of praise — 
But not for wealth, nor power, nor fame, 
Would invocate thy fearful name : 
Let wealth his joyless nothings keep — 
Ambition gain his world — and weep. — - 
And on the chymist may'st thou pour 
Like fabled Jove, a golden shower: 
Still may the pining prisoner find, 
A Howard's cares have made thee kind. 

Nor would the lowly muse implore, 

Thy latest, best regard, 
Since from her grief-consoling power. 

Ascends each wished reward ; 
^But ah ! thy sharpest scythe display. 
To sweep this shadowy form away, 
Ere cold the narrowing mind appear, 
And closed the portals of the ear : 
Ere age shall every glance controul, 
That speaks the language of the soul : 
Or even one anguish'd sense depart, 
Which rends the concave of the heart 
Wkich bids each suffering fibre glow, 

To agony's excess, 
Or gives this raptured breast to know 

Reflected happiness. 
Ah \ yet the sweeping scythe display, 
^Ere these full locks have turned to grey; 
Ere this slight form to thee shall bend, 
O let me to the tomb descend ( 
Then memory shall delight to trace, 
pome cherished worth, some fancied grace 5 



109 



While bending o'er the slumbering clay, 

Each conscious foible fades away. 

There oft shall friendship's gentle form be found, 
Heaving from breast of down the sacred sigh, 
And fondly spelling out the piteous tale, 
There shall chaste love his earliest woes bewail, 
To the cold marble cling with burning eye, 

Or wear with pilgrim-knee the insensate ground. 
So may fresh laurels deck thy faded brow, 
So may new realms thy ravaged fields adorn : 
T er the dead desert living streamlets flow, 
And hope with carol'd hymn invite the morn : 

So may thine age regain its golden prime. 
When the charmed minstrel graced the monarch's board, 
And with the lamb reclined the forest's lord,* 
While war's red triumphs from creation hurled, 
Peace leans enamoured o'er the awakened world, 

And not a tear-drop shames the eye of Time. 



* " The kion shall lie down with the Lamb," 



PART II. 



THE 



C8for(9 *n 9 f t0 SZW#fi$ 



11 All that the Mind can suffer, — 

" The Mind properly armed, can repel." 



THE 



flZIorW an* its WUa$# 



Jt>v the World, is usually understood that con* 
tracted circle of human beings, whose identity we 
recollect and are willing to admit ; to which add, 
the possibly enlarged circle of those, to whom by 
person, or from reputation, we happen to be known, 
and in some sort estimated or by some means as- 
similated. 

Within the limits of these circles, individuals 
may be found, varying and various, in shade and in 
colouring, as are the cloud and the rainbow ; from 
the fixed gloom of sullen melancholy, to the evan- 
escent light of vanity and its many weaknesses ; con* 
spicuous among whom, are the deeply disappoint- 
ed, who growl at the world, as if themselves were 
faultless, or possessed exemption of some kind, at 
taching blame to, and parrying with astonishment, 
any stricture which seems to question such infal 
libility. 

Yet, in fact, the World is sufficiently consider* 
ate of those who deserve well of the world ; ta- 
ken in the aggregate, it is neither hard nor unjust 
nor cruel ; and if liable to mistake, is usually no less 
15 



114 

willing to retrace and retract, upon any positive or 
presumptive evidence : sometimes with elastic re- 
action, flying off to the opposite extreme, it is seen 
to overrate those whom it had undervalued. 

The World is usually commiserating to afflic- 
tion, provided it has not arisen from the loss of 
property, to which loss it always affixes opprobri- 
um ; in full conviction, that waste, indiscretion, or 
rash adventure, were the unpitied source of every 
pecuniary misfortune ; additional to which, the re- 
duced have no longer the power of contributing to 
profit or pleasure. 

And yet the World is tolerant of many other er- 
rors, which seem not positively growing out of moral 
depravity ; for although the solitary possession of 
riches brings neither love nor respect, yet the ple- 
nary loss of these is often found to generate the 
contempt of sarcasm, and even a sort of apprehen- 
sive antipathy. 

In fine^ the World hears and sees, and some- 
times feels, but never reasons; it is suspicious, in- 
quisitive and talkative, with a craving appetite for 
the ridiculous of every description — but most glad- 
ly feeding on that which appertains to the conceit- 
ed, the ostentatious, and the ignorant, whose pre- 
tension is beyond their possession, whose waste is 
without wealth, and whose vanity is without founda- 
tion. 

In effect, the voice of the World is most loud 
and lasting in derision, and aversion of pretence of 
every kind, be it in nature, or out of nature ; and 
is even less merciful to the accidentally rich, 
who misuse their ill-gotten abundance, than to the 



115 

inadvertently destitute, and the really desolate, if 
become such through bad luck, credulous trust, or 
heedless profusion — these, at first, accused, con- 
demned, and discarded, can be commiserated or 
endured ; and when fallen down to the low abyss 
of unmitigated misery, provided one adventitious 
ray of merit is seen to shine through the darkness 
of their destiny, may also be in some sort neutral- 
ized, if not willingly restored, and entirely for* 
given. 



By the beings of either circle, THOUGHTS 
were planted — have grown, and are gathered to- 
gether in 

The Social World, 

The Selfish World, 

The Trifling World, 

The Vain World, and 

The World at Large. 



THE SOCIAL WORLD. 



If an elevated character, in adversity, happen 
to have personal foes of base motives, but of suc- 
cessful fortunes, it is curious to observe the min- 
ions of the Social World, following the footsteps 



116 

of prosperity, even as the shadow follows the sub- 
Stance, only in the sunshine ; these likewise disap- 
pearing whenever the dark cloud of adversity 
seems to surround the moral being, are found to 
assist the oppressor in vilifying the afflicted, thus 
adding to the sensibilities of positive misfortune, the 
indignant sensation of imputed misconduct ; and yet 
less from malice and mischief, than from fashion and 
selfishness. For such worldlings are equally ready, 
upon change of circumstances, to turn the shaft of 
their ridicule against the oppressor, and become 
the champions of those whom they had delighted 
to persecute. 

This has the denomination of curious, rather 
than noxious, since its origin is the weakness not 
the wickedness of individual character ; essential- 
ly mean, not intentionally attrocious ; and usually 
terminating with as little of personal influence as 
of permanent injury. 



THE SELFISH WORLD. 



The value which mere Men* op the World 
place upon each other, is neither founded on just 
esteem, nor built in kind affections; but rather 
grounded upon the cold calculations of selfish ad- 
vantage, in mercenary gains, or in frivolous plea- 
sures. 

Thence their individual opinions, fluctuating as 
the weather guage, may be said to form a true 



H7 



thermometer, which is seen rising and falling with 
the price of stocks, the rents of estate, and the 
trade winds of the Indian Ocean. 



DISINTERESTEDNESS, 

A FABLE. 
IMITATED PROM THE FRENCH PROSE. 



Avaro to the Rector flies ; 

Why sleeps thy zeal, the usurer cries, 

Extortions stalk around ; 
Their gripe the heir expectant drains, 
Their's are the venturous merchant's gains, 

By which the poor are ground ! 
It is thy trade, returned the priest ; 

The sharpest of thy kind: 
Thou should'st be merciful— -at least, 

As thou would'st mercy find. 

Ah pray ! sir priest, thy task attend^ 
Nor let the growing tribe extend ; 
No more my coffer feels its hoards, 
The exhausted field no grain affords, 

The springs of wealth are dry- 
Then with denouncing voice restrain, 
The numbers of extortion's train, 

Numbers more rich than I. 
Let hapless me those curses bear, 
Which now an hundred usurers share, 

With hearts more hard than stone ! 
We read, one sentenced he goat lost. 
Redeemed the sin sequestered host ; — 
Thus heap the offender's crimes on me. 
I would the single victim be— 
Guilt, shame, and grasping profit — all my own I, 



118 



THE TRIFLING WORLD. 



Every society of the trifling world verifies the 
assertion, that there are men, whose sole distinc- 
tion being consummate vanity, eccentric opinion, 
and profligate propensity, are never the less wel- 
comed and caressed, even by the wise and the 
good ; inducing a belief in the mere charm of ir- 
regularity, by a presumption that those triflers owe 
their reception to the sole qualities of weakness 
and vice ; while in fact, the admission or toleration 
of such is surely due to the good humour, easi- 
ness of address, and freedom of communication 
which happen to be attached to their foibles. 

For it may be accepted as a moral certainty, 
that no bad principle was ever, in its solitary self, 
productive of a really good result ; but when any 
one human being commands the affections of anoth- 
er, it is from something unequivocally estimable, or 
positively desirable in person, disposition, or under- 
standing ; a something, which, perhaps we cannot 
specifically comprehend, and may from the man- 
ner in which it is associated, find it difficult to de- 
fine ; but, even as no one does evil for the mere 
sake of the abstract sin, neither was any one ever 
beloved solely for the possession of faults, the com- 
mission of vice, or the perpetration of crimen 



119 



Even those offences, which, in effect, prove 
profitable to ourselves, do not inspire personal re- 
gard, and in loving the treason, we of necessity ab- 
hor the traitor. 



The following may possibly amuse those who condescend to 
be amused by the veriest trifles. At least their absurdity 
may occasion a smile to brighten the solemn cloud which 
has generally overcast the preceding pages. The fre- 
quent appearance of the first of these inducing the pre- 
sent republication with the Reply annexed. 

LINES, 

FOUND AT THE CITY Of WASHINGTON, IN A LADY'S GLOVE. 
THE AUTHOR NOT AVOWED. 



Sweet Glove ! when snugly packed you lay 
In dealers shop, and slept all day 
Close to your partner's bosom prest ; 
— What new emotions fired your breast, 
When leading on the laughing loves, 
Philenia stopped, and asked for Gloves. 
When the reluctant glove she drew 
From off her hand, and tried on you. 
What transport through your system thrilled, 
When your distended form was filled, 
With beauty never, known before ; — 
And touched with more than magic power y 
And ah ! what rapture through you flew, 
When she replied — " Sir, these will do." 

Since daily you her hand have prest, 
Aiid nightly near her gone to rest— 



120 

But soon alas ! your joys are past — 

Extatic bliss can never last ! 

For quickly you are doomed to know, 

That when you torn and worn shall grow, 

You — hapless elf, will be thrown by 

Neglected — in some corner lie, 

And see some glove all white and new, 

Obtain that hand so prized by you. 

To meet neglect for all your love, 
Is grief enough for hapless glove- 
But when stern fate shall add to this. 
That you must know your rival's bliss, 
And hopeless meet his haughty scorn; 
— What glove was ever so forlorn !— 

At last, in plaister, or in string, 
Or cleaning plate, your days may end ; 
Who then will think that such a thing, 
Poor Glove ! was e'er Philenicfs friend I 



SECOND ADDRESS 

TO THE SAME GLOVE ; INTENDED AS A RESPONSE TO THE UNA- 
VOWED AUTHOR OF THE ABOVE, 



No — not in string, nor plaister base, 

But round some tall preserving jar. 
This glove, the luckiest of his race, 

Shall catch the Gourmand? s glance afar I 
And all his envious passions move, 

The raspberry's luscious jam to greet, 
The ruby of the peach to prove, 

Or crab, as peach, or raspberry sweet. 
Or gooseberry — with its blending tart, — ■ 
Or the plump cherry's scarlet heart, 
Which more than maiden blushes move 
The science of his taste to love. 



121 

The sugared fruit within thy care, 
May more his tempted thought beguile. 

Than bashful beauty's timid air, 
Or balmy infant's gladdening smile ; 

If lovely bride, or babe of glee, 

Were his, who wastes his verse on thee. 

Then, lucky glove, exulting go, 
And as in u sweets" thy day arose, 
In sweets its latest hour shall close, 
Sweets, that in kind succession flow. 
Young beauty shall exulting see, 
And bend her graceful neck to thee ; 
While her excelling fingers twine, 
Around each parted arm of thine ; 
Unconscious of its fairer days, 
Will boast the worth that age* displays, 
And give thy hoarded sweets her praise. 



TO 

LEWIS HERVEY, ESQ. 

SECRETARY OF THE PRESIDENCY, WASHINGTON CITY. 

WHO IN THE DEPTH OF WINTER, HAD, FROM DISAPPOINTMENT, 
THREATENED TO EMBARK FOR FRANCE. 



Woulds't thou, desponding lover, fly 

From the charm'd arrow of that eye, 

Whose bow of opening heaven could dart 

Electric madness to thine heart ; 

Or in its wizard circle bind 

The passions of thy struggling mind ? 

Know^ mid the ocean's ruffian roar, 

# Namtly. — " An old glove is good for something." 

16 



122 

While cold, and dark the tempests pour ; 
Still shall that look of bashful charm, 
Thy young untravelled soul alarm ; 
And still that dimpling smile appear, 
To show the prosperous rival near. 
Even while some bright Parisian dame 
Surrounds thee with a transient flame, 
The steadier fire of truth will burn, 
And with the kindling thought return. 

Why then, ah hapless ! would'st thou roam ? 
Why quit thy dear engaging home ? 
Even now when winter's surly frown, 
Bears the white hovering tempest down ; 
And full his flaky pinions lower, 
To scatter wide the flinty shower. 

Ere thy first fluttering hope has flown, 
While sense and virtue are thy own ; 
In thy warm youth's enamoured day, 
Why tear thee from thy wish away ? — 
What miser quits his cherished store, 
To trust the faithless seas for more ! 
Who would a peerless gem resign, 
And tempt the dark and doubtful mine ? 
Seduced by dreams — with toil and care, 
To find a lovelier treasure there ? 

If now the meek and timid maid, 

Of thy too ardent prayer afraid, 

With red averted cheek, decline 

To meet one passion'd vow of thine ; 

Wilt thou, to fears and doubts resigned, 

Fly from her half reluctant mind ? 

And from her wavering fancy free, 

The captive thought, which pleads for thee. 



123 



INJUNCTION TO D. W. L. 

WHEN SEPARATED FROM THE OBJECT OF HIS AFFECTION BY THE 
ERRORS OF HIS OWN CONDUCT. 



Ingrate ! to whom, at nature's happiest hour, 
Was given of heart the prize, of mind the power : 
Wit to delight, and virtue to improve, 
Much to command, and more to sanction love ! 
Hence those dove eyes, which charmed thy soul away. 
Glance through the transient tear their trembling ray, 
Pensive, and sweet, the speaking wanderer's own, 
How cold the hope that lives when love is gone. 
Hear then that heart — its noblest precept hear — 
With lip of fondness dry the impatient tear; 
Let whispered passion every wrong remove, 
And wake to honour ! tenderness and love ! 



THE VAIN WORLD. 



Every day's experience may, and does, disclose, 
among the females of the Vain World, individ- 
uals, upon whose persons beautiful nature has be- 
stowed nothing : with manners unpolished, and with 
minds unformed : the very defect or deficiency lead- 
ing to a sort of popular applause, which occasions 
their offences and them to be excused, and in some 
sort valued, particularly by the graceful, and the 



124 

gifted : not always from the purest motives of be- 
nevolence, but as often through personal pride, and 
in vain glory. Since the ordinary, by contrast- 
ing, may serve as foils for the more advantageous 
display of the pleasing and the pretty ; and being 
without influence, they are presumed to be harm- 
less or well intentioned. 

Even men of professed gallantry, in conscious 
safety, possibly from compassion, probably from 
mere bravado, are occasionally seen flattering these 
elegantes with attentions, which are known to ex- 
cite neither jealousy in the one sex, nor envy in 
the other. 

Yet this very ordinary sort of personage is some- 
times the vainest of the vain, with more presump- 
tion of mind, and with greater insolence of deport- 
ment, — where not too dangerous to themselves ; 
than is either seen in or attributed to the most ac- 
complished beauty, and the highest fashion of the 
Vain World. 

In analyzing such causes and effects, the serious 
thought is nearly forced to adopt the romantic the- 
ory of Lavater, as to the inevitable result of a fine 
mind in a fine body. 

And yet, as every general description of cha- 
racter, like that of every given rule of life, must 
be understood with admitted exceptions; the 
above does not reach, and cannot touch the culti- 
vated of mind, nor the amiable of manner, however 
deficient in feature or in fashion. 



125 



CHARACTERISTIC SONGS. 



SUCCESSFUL LOVER. 

To these joyful eyes restoring 
All thy person's countless charms, 

Say, shall fancy, still deploring, 
Vex thee with her vain alarms. 

Wayward fancy, ever dreaming, 
Saw that heaven which circles thee, 

For a sordid rival beaming, 
With delight's insanity. 

Now beheld thee coldly wandering, 
Ever changing — still the same — 

On some dangerous passion pondering, 
Kindled by its transient flame. 

Vain the fear, and weak the grieving, 
Since those softened eyes declare, 

All, in truth that's worth believing, 
Lives and speaks devotion there. 

Never more that truth suspecting, 
All my passioned soul is thine. 

And the wondering world neglecting, 
Thou, in beauty's blush, art mine. 



126 

SONG. 

DEJECTED WIFE! 



Is it for this unwandering mind, 

This heart, which only glows for thee, 

To mark that cold averted eye, 

Where not one blessing beams for me ! 

Is it for this adoring thought, 

Which on thy plighted honour lives, 

To wonder at a causeless change, 
Yet want the pitying hope it gives ? 

Is it for me, who many a day, 

Have, in that passioned glance of thine, 
Read words of truth and lasting love, 

To doubt its character divine ? 

Rather, since all the gods have shed 
Their glories round each mental grace, 

To bid inferior mortals find 

A heaven on that reflecting face ; 

Submissive as the martyr's zeal, 

With suffering heart and patient eye, 

When hope's deceptive dream has fled. 
Be mine to worship, and to die. 



127 

TO 

A BEAUTIFUL INFANT. 



Blest Infant ! in whose rosy smiles we trace, 
The sire's creative thought, the lovely mother's grace, 
O'er thee that sire's resplendent mind shall shine, 
And all that mother's power to charm be thine ; 
While thou, reflecting back, to both shalt bring 
Youth's fragrant bloom, in life's delicious spring : 
Brilliant ! and blest ! may no dark cloud appear, 
To veil the sunshine of the future year. 
Kind as thy birth, may partial fortune be ; 
For all the life of genius breathes in thee. (1) 



LINES 

TO A LADY, DANCING. 



Ethereal Beauty ! fairy ! say, 
Who taught thy tiny feet to play ? 
Was it, mid moonlight's cheerly glance, 
That Oberon, mingling in the dance, 
Gave thee his art, and bade thee go, 
And charm the gazing world below ? 
Like his thine elfin iootsteps shine, 
And all his buoyant grace is thine : 
Like his thy strains of music flow, 
When falls the cadence warbled low. 

No — not the monarch chanced to see, 
Nor gave his carols sweet to thee. 
But favouriug nature did her part, 
And graceful made thee as thou art. 



128 



IMPROMPTU, 

FOR A LADY SINGING TO A RIOTOUS AND INSENSIBLE COMPANY. 



Enchantress, cease ! what though Amphiori's song 
Could draw the herds and softening wilds along, 
No equal power thy caroPd words impart, 
To move and melt the vegetating heart ; 
Though sweet their breathings as his gifted lyre, 
They wake no wonder, and no praise inspire I 
He, blest musician, poured his soul, and then 
Rocks seemed to feel, and brutes appeared as men— 
Reversed — the magic of thy charmed strain, 
Now falls on men turned rocks or brutes again ! 



LINES IMPROMPTU,* 

UPON HEARING AN ELEVATED INDIVIDUAL ACCUSED OF PRIDE, &C &C< 



I love to hear the grovelling mind, 
Thy proud unyielding spirit blame, 

Where genius, to itself confined, 
Disdains the vulgar walks of fame : 

But more I love the social scene, 
Where as thy haughty virtues bend, 

In silent eloquence serene, 

The powers of gentleness descend. 



* These were particularly induced to divert the attention of a very 
young person, who, having first been terrified into tears, was afterwards 
soothed into smiles by a severe but kind manner. 



129 

Most loved, when from thy mental height, 
Thou deign'st with lowly voice to cheer 

The heart that trembles at thy sight, 
And timid, greets thee with a tear ! 

Even thus the picturing artist throws 
O'er the strong lines which nature gives, 

That softening shade, whose touch bestows, 
The grace that speaks, the charm that lives. 



THE WORLD AT LARGE 



In an intimate or a transient intercourse with 
the World at Large, it were best neither to dis- 
trust nor deceive, nor accuse others, but rather to 
doubt and suspect, and watch over ourselves ; put- 
ting a guard upon the portal of our lips, conversing, 
not of persons, but of events, of talents, of taste, or 
of improvements, where these are appropriate, and 
where not, of the useful and the pleasing, as suited 
to every capacity. 

Not of books, unless all present are readers; 
since the most unlettered of the circle, may, in 
possibility, be the most amiable, or most merito- 
rious ; whose consciousness we should not alarm, and 
upon whose endowments we have no right to en- 
force silence. 

Not of party politics, unless the company be of 
one sentiment, for the exasperated partizan is oft- 
times a persecuting bigot, carrying death to his un- 
believing opponent, not indeed by the fagot and its 
flame, but by the equally fatal sword or pistol. 
17 



130 

Not of individual conduct, since our vanities, our 
prejudices, our passions, and sometimes our very 
virtues mislead us, when we speak of the absent; 
who are as often injured by misapplied praise, as by 
unmerited censure. 

In society, lavish not direct applause on those 
who are present. It is meanness, or it is presump- 
tion, drawing down contempt, or assuming superi- 
ority ; and yet as out of the abundance of a very 
kind and grateful heart, words of delight, and ex- 
pressions of praise, will spontaneously overflow, 
such abundance is neither to be censured as adula- 
tion, nor rejected as falsehood. The honest cha- 
racter may be mistaken for its counterfeit, but 
courteousness is not naturally, nor necessarily, faith- 
fulness. 

Equally with the baseness of positive flattery, 
avoid the rudeness of absolute reprimand. 

Accuse individuals in no way, and criticise them 
not at all, for such freedoms, usually received as 
insults, are seldom forgotten, and yet more seldom 
recalled to remembrance without enmity. 

Neither is it quite safe to expatiate on our own 
particular persons, our failings, our merits, or our 
fortunes ; in avowing and disclaiming, we seem in- 
sincere, and become intrusive or impertinent ; in 
comparing and commending, bold, boastful and dis- 
gusting. 

The good and the evil of our destiny, is equally 
noxious in recital ; as the advantages and prosperi- 
ties are invidious ; and but few are pleased in find- 
ing the plentiful gifts of fortune showered upon 
others, while they thirst and are hungry in the 



131 

desert ! Also our ill luck and peculiar misfortunes, 
bearing relation but to our very selves, are often 
held as a species of personal degradation, and 
thence awaken no sympathy in the multitude. 

In our attentions, be it our aim to discriminate, 
not to assume, nor ever appear dealing out notice, 
as if it were condescension. 

Likewise, it were best to receive that respect 
which is legitimately our due, with modesty, and 
rather as a favour confessed; being equally careful 
not to offend by rudeness of expression, nor by li- 
berties nor assumptions of any kind, for disdain and 
contempt itself are born of such familiarity. 

Never oppose the hard negative of peremptory 
denial to any assertion, that does not touch the sanc- 
tity of honour, nor strike at the fidelity of friend- 
ship ; and should direct contradiction become an 
imperious duty to principle, let it not wear the 
rough features of violence, nor assume the rude ac- 
cent of reproach: since to convert, we must con- 
vince, and in convincing, persuade, ever resting on 
inviolable truth of mind, and polite amenity of 
manner. 

To accuse the World at Large, and to con- 
demn its successful votaries, are the usual conso- 
lations of the weak, and the wearied ; yet it were 
better to reform than to reproach ; and one les- 
son directed to ourselves, and well understood, is of 
more certain efficacy than ten thousand thoughts 
lavished upon another. 

Yet every society of polished life, affords a cho- 
sen few, to w r hom has been given the capacity of 
performing with ease, what others, equally well 



132 



disposed, wish, pursue, and labour in vain to effect. 
Of which last is the writer's self, searching and 
striving for the path that leads to peace and per- 
fection ; but of mind, and by nature, incautious and 
unconcealing. Inadvertencies of utterance in the 
opinions of that mind, have been many, and mark- 
ed ; bringing misapprehension, meeting offences, fol- 
lowed by regrets as inevitable as unlimited. 

But as the rescued mariner, feelingly alive to 
dangers past, and miseries no longer encountered, 
may prove the most powerful in pointing out, 
and guiding through that perilous ocean, in which 
the low treachery of quicksands with the more 
evident attacks of furious elements had crossed his 
path and arrested its course — interrupted, over- 
whelmed, and cruelly distressed, without destroy- 
ing every hope of his yet resting on the desired 
shore of an undisturbed haven : thus forewarned 
and forewarning, there remain for all the patient 
and pure of heart, a present blessing and a tranquil 
future, to which the passions and their world do 
not belong : for every passion may be said to dis- 
play an inhabited World in its violence and its 
ways, painful to follow, easy to define ; a World 
desired and pursued by the foolish, pitied or de- 
rided by the wise, disdained and forsaken by the 
virtuous. 



133 



LINES, 

WRITTEN IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE TREMENDOUS GALE AND STORM 
WHICH PROVED SO GENERALLY DISASTROUS TO LIFE AND ITS POS- 
SESSIONS, ON SEPTEMBER 23, 1815. 

SIMPLE ADDRESS TO MY HOME. 



Safe on the vale's protected breast, 
The portals of my mansion rest. 
In trembling tenderness of form, 
Outlive the hard and hurrying storm — 
While on the firm hill's cultured side, 
Is crushed the seat of taste and pride. 

To God the powerless poor belong, 
He shields the weak, and smites the strong. 
Without his will no sparrow falls, 
Whose shelter was thy friendly walls. 
My home — if quiet dwell with thee — 
What are the storms of life to me ! 
So in the frail ark's tranquil view, 
The whirlwinds of the deluge blew ; 
Hurtless they blew — of heaven the care, 
The dove of peace still rested there — 
Rested — while ruin's darts were hurled, 
To strike the chosen of the world. 

As yet from earth no joy shall rise, 
Without the atoning sacrifice — 
No more thy bordering elms are seen 
To fling their arch of darkening green — 
And the ripe fruit tree's nectared store, 
Shall wave its blooming gold no more. 



134 

Though not a charm with polish'd grace 
Smile on thy changed and cheerless face, 
I love thee — that no passion rude, 
Profanes thy sacred solitude : — 
I love thee, that no envious eye, 
Regards thee with a passing sigh !— 
I love thee, for the friend sincere 
Whose voice of blessing greets me Acre, 
But most — that to thy haunts are given, 
That calm, which looks from earth to heaven. 

Not for the fair, the firm, the high, 
Does pity come with pleading eye ; 
Thence are thy faded features dear 
To me, as nature's vernal year — 
And dear thy wasted form to me— 
For all I love must change like thee. 



LINES, 

TO THE SCION OF THE TULIP TREE, SHADING THE RURAL HOME 

OF MY ANCESTORS. 



The Tree which my forefathers planted and reared, 

To me, by the fame of their virtue's endeared ; 

Has flourished with them — like them, in their prime, 

Exotic — yet genial, in nature and clime : 

That tree waves its branches of verdure and bloom, 

They, fading, are lost in the deep of the tomb, 

Yet dear is the hill, and the grove, and the plain, 

Which no more to the plants of the mansion remain, 

Plants nursed in thy shadow, all sportive and free, 

Or, stretched at thy foot, seemed as blooming as thee. 

Those plants all have perished, and strangers are known, 

To reap the rich field, which affection had sown. 

And yet the young scion, transferred to my care, 

As if the quick sense of my fathers were there. 



135 



Is tender, yet brilliant, in stem and in leaf, 

And cheers me in sadness, and soothes me in grief. 

For can I forget, as I gaze upon thee, 

How many the branches, how mighty the tree. (1) 

Whence grew the weak form, and the features so pale, 

Of both — as we bend to the merciless gale 

Of seasons — by hardness, or elements blown, 

To kill the firm hope, but in solitude known. 

Of calm to the scene, and of grace to the mind, 

If lonely, yet social — if injured, yet kind. 



EPISTLE, 



TO THEOPHILUS PARSONS, (2) UPON HIS ACCEPTING THE APPOINTMENT 
OF CHIEF JUSTICE OF THE SUPREME JUDICIAL COURT OF MAS- 
SACHUSETTS. 



And does that mind, which every mind excels, 

Quit the proud path where fame triumphant dwells ? 

While at her side prolific fortune stands, 

And showers her bounty with unsparing hands — 

Bids but thy genius ask, and all obey — 

Why fling the doubly proffered boon away ? 

For the dull bench, the inspiring robe disclaim, 

False to thyself, to fortune, and to fame ! 

Thou like an eastern monarch, reign'st alone, 

Nor could the aspiring brother reach thy throne, 

Or like a giant towering o'er thy kind, 

In all the wondrous majesty of mind ; 

More strong than monarchs — thine the nobler sway 

And yielded claim, which kindred souls obey. 

But now uncheered by glory's vertic rays, 
Tedious and tame will lour thy shadowy days. 
Condemned to heed the ever-during plea — 
Which endless folly blundering pours on thee. 



136 



Or stifling all thy gentle heart's desire, 
With warning accents, bid the wretch expire ! 
Even him, whose wrongs awake the generous sigh, 
Him, may unseeing justice doom to die ! 

Lo, then thy fate ! with pained and patient ear, 
The hard monotony of words to bear, 
Misguided error, wandering far from sense, 
Pride's pompous boast, and passion's bold pretence 
Await thee now — from morn's unwelcome ray, 
To the slow shadows of retreating day ; — 

What though some soaring genius, true to thine, 
In mental radiance bid the forum shine, 
Deep — fervid, full ; with sacred science fraught, 
And all the graced pre-eminence of thought, 
Forceful as reason in her high career — 
Yet falls like music on the astonished ear. 
When, as a charm, the fluent strain is found, 
To bid enamoured silence hover round, 
Calling from thee that smile which seems to speak, 
Gives the delighted flush to pass thy cheek. — 
More dark will seem the void, his pause supplies, 
More bleak the wild that mocks thy searching eyes. 

Poor is the mead the uncherished muse can give, 
'Tis thine to honour, and thy praise will live. 
Still must thou shine, and with unequalled rays 
The undying Mansfield of departed days ! 
Guide of the laws, (3) an empire's boon and boast, 
Though fortune and her dangerous dream were lost. 



137 



ODE FOR MUSIC. 

INSCRIBED TO GEORGE WASHINGTON, UPON HIS PUBLIC ENTRANCE 
IN THE TOWN OF BOSTON, DURING HIS PRESIDENCY. 



The season sheds its mildest ray, 
O'er the blue waves the sunbeams play ; 
The bending harvest clothes the plain, 
The bannered vessels cheer the main ; 
The ruddy ploughboy quits his toil, 
The pallid miser leaves his spoil. 
And grateful peans hail the festive year, 
Which bids Columbia's guiding chief appear. 
Hence disappointment's anxious eye, 
And pining envy's lingering sigh, 
Let sorrow from the brow be borne, 
And every heart forget to mourn, 
While smiles of peace their charms display, 
To grace this joy-devoted day ; 
For the great Washington each lyre be strung, 
Thy matchless deeds by every bard be sung. 

When Freedom raised her drooping head, 

And many a suffering hero led ; 

When every hope to thee resigned, 

Were resting on thy glorious mind ; 

How did that breast, to fear unknown, 

And feeling for her fate alone — 
O'er peril's threatening form the falchion wield, 
And tread with dauntless step the endangered field. 

Not Decius— patriot dear to fame, 
Not Cincinnatus^ deathless name, — 
Not he, who led the Spartan band, 
The saviour of a bleeding land— 
18 



138 



Could more triumphant worth display, 
Nor shine with such unclouded ray, 
Of age the hope — of youth the leading star — 
The eye of peace — the conquering arm of war. 



TRIBUTARY LINES 

TO GEN. HENRY LEE. 

HERO AND ORATOR, IN THE ANNALS OF HIS COUNTRY ; VICTIM OE 
PERSECUTION THROUGH THE VIOLENCE OF HER PARTY POLITICKS. 



Yes ! thou wert born beneath the hero's star, 

Triumphant leader in a patriot war ; 

Like Ammotfs son, ere manhood's riper grace, 

Had nerved the limbs, and stampt the blooming face, 

Supreme in arms, a veteran foe thy claim, 

Thy daring valour won the prize of fame. 

Or at thy country's call, her powers to join ; 
Where listening senates felt thy voice divine, 
As round her great deliverer's trophied bier, 
Awakened memory gave the hallowed tear — 
Warm from the heart, and glistening with its flame, 
Endeared by thee, its best libation came. 

Brave was that arm which taught a Briton fear, 
And sweet the voice that charmed a nation's ear. 
But not the forum, nor the battle, claim 
Alone thy homage, and divide thy fame, 
For all the graceful charities which blend, 
Round social life ; — the husband, father, friend — 
Are thine — and thine a generous breast that glows 
With every worth, the noblest nature knows. 

In council honoured, as in arms renown'd, 
By fortune followed, and by victory crown'd ; 



139 



Fame is thy own — nor can a muse like mine, 

One flower of fragrance with thy chapiet twine. 

Blooming and bright, the eternal green shall cheer 

The closing winter of each future year, 

With thriftiest germ shall blosom unsubdued 

By faction's blight, or chill ingratitude ! 

Mid the full wreath, no bosom'd worm shall feed — 

Nor envy shame it with one mingling weed, 

This to thy deeds doth public virtue give, 

That with thy country shall thy glory live ! 

Bright as her rivers, as her hills sublime, 

Shall pierce her clouds, and glitter through her clime ; 

Like a rich gem adorn the historic page, 

Wear through all time, and shine on every age. 



TO THE 

* 

HON. JOHN JAY. 



Formed, through the paths of fame to mover, 
Graced by a grateful people's love — 
Whether the helm of state (1) to guide, 
Or bid the storm of war subside, (2) 
Or to the clement virtues dear, 
From Afric catch the falling tear, (3) 
Or with a voice whose dulcet strain, 
Might charm to peace the phrenzied brain— 
O'er the stern courts of law preside, (4) 
Nor seem to lean on mercy's side ; 
Or in thy soft retirement blest, 
Feel all the father warm thy breast — 
Thine is high honour's noblest cause, 
And thine the summit of applause, 

What though a party's fraudful sway 
Would rend thy civic crown away, 
To thee a nobler hope extends, 
For thee, the patriot prayer ascends, 



140 

On thee, the honoured suffrage falls, 

For thee, the sacred people calls ; 

Yet blushing science quits her strain, 

Silenced, and seeking thee, in vain. 

So when the midnight's vapoury breath, 

In clouds obscures the sylvan heath, 

No peals of music cheer the vale, 

No floweret scents the freshening gale, 

Till the bright sun, with sovereign sway, 

Strikes through the gloom, and leads the day* 



TO 

HIS EXCELLENCY JOHN JAY, 

GOVERNOR, AND COMMANDER IN CHIEF, OF THE STATE OF 

NEW-YORK, 



While those by falsehood led, with passion blind, 
Fall to decay, nor leave a wreck behind, 
Thy fame, illustrious patriot, will endure, 
Firm as thy mind, and as thy motive pure ; 
A grateful country shall thy triumph see, 
And all her muses lift their harps to thee. 
Loved, praised, and honoured, by no ill subdued, 
Thine is the suffrage of the great and good. 
Friends of thy life, by kindred perils tried, 
In whom the millions of the west confide. 

Though with rude blast the breath of envy blow, 
Still lives the laurel on thy tranquil brow, 
Still with thy genius shall thy virtues shine, 
And the best plaudit of a world be thine. 



141 



SONNET, TO 

MAJOR GENERAL LINCOLN. 



Think not, brave Lincoln, that the rage of time, 
Can from thy warrior brow the laurel rend ; 
Though midst its green the living snows descend, 

It still shall flourish with unfading prime. 

See the wrapt student at his midnight oil, 
Recount thy deeds and lead thee down to fame, 
While the young hero kindles at thy name, 

Dwells on thy glorious wounds, and boasts thy toil. 

How o'er red Carolina's arid plain, 

Thine was to brave the dog-star's striking glow, 
And thine to lead bleak winters hardy train, 

O'er Pelham's stormy heights — through AthoVs vales of 
snow ; 
There, first in danger, forced thy fearless way, 
Here, at thy feet, subdued rebellion lay. 



SONNET 

TO THE FULL SUMMER MOON. 



Thou silent traveller, of the glance benign, 
Who from yon crystal car on high, 
Shedd'st the full lustre of thy moving eye, 

While the touched hills and vales, reflective shine. 



142 



I love the wanderings of thy varied beam, 

What time the pale west bends thy silver wire— - 
Till in the gorgeous east, thou bidst the sun retire, 

Mingling warm blushes with his parting gleam. 

He draws his crimsoned curtain round the main, 
And, from the warm earth drinks refreshing dews 

Thou gently bending o'er the child of pain, 
Canst charm the sadness of the mourning muse. 

He, the proud emblem of oppressive power ; 
Thou, the mild sovereign of the pitying hour! 



ESSAYS. 



ADVERSITY. 

ESSAY 1. 



▼ V hen habituated to affluence, how is the annihi- 
lation of its many privileges to be borne ? 

If the loss of riches merely involved the relin- 
quishment of fine clothes, gay equipage, sumptuous 
tables, and fond flatterers — great were the gain of 
such loss, making the head wiser, and the heart 
holier. 

But when precipitated from our cast, robbed of 
our associates, and beheld by our dearest friends 
with the commiseration which belongs to inferi- 
ority — 

When the proud meet us with assumed conde- 
scension, and the mean pass us with affected for- 
getfulness ; 

When the malicious carelessly recur to the splen- 
dour of the past, and the envious carefully dis- 
close the hopelessness of the future — 

When praise, changing its features, is no longer 
combined with deference ; and when even the as- 
surances of sincere friendship are to be accepted as 
an obligation— 



144 

When no longer able to bestow, and too high- 
minded to receive — to our own sufferings are ad- 
ded the superior wants of the yet more misera- 
ble— 

When our virtues claim no homage, and our sor- 
rows inspire no sympathy ; when in our society, 
even the good seem wearied, and appear apprehen- 
sive, as if misfortune were a pestilence, of which 
they dreaded the near contagion — 

Then only, have we reason and right in exclaim- 
ing, hard is the pressure of adversity ; no longer a 
ministering angel, to restrain and to instruct, but ga- 
ther a power, mighty and malignant ; which bends 
the spirit even to breaking ; teaching the proud 
heart to find or to feel, that the dross it never deign- 
ed to estimate, is more valued by this world, than 
all the virtues. 



SONNET TO ADVERSITY. 



u For all I thank thee, — most for the severe 



95 



Neglected Nymph, that with unheeded sigh, 

Turn'st thy white cheek to every striking gale — 
While the base crew with wounding taunts assail 
And frowning wealth averts his wintry eye : 
Yet the rich virtues follow in thy train, 

Thine is compassion's tear, submission's calm ; 
Consoling Hope, Religion's heavenly balm, 
And mild philosoplry's instructive strain : 
And thine the plaintive poet's touching song, 
That moves to melody the chords of care, 



145 

'Pouring forgiveness o'er the cureless wrong, 
To heal the wounded spirit of despair. 

Ah ! may I ne'er forget thy voice divine, 

But bless the hour that made its precepts mine. 



PROSPERITY. 

ESSAY 11. 



If the affluent are followed, flattered, and crowns 
ed with glory, why condemn their votaries as the 
false worshippers of a true idol ? 

When the heart is happy, it is kind ; pleasures 
are blessings, which, inspiring hope, may produce 
affection. 

In the house of rejoicing, the charm of cordiali- 
ty, and friendship and benevolence seems to reign, 
and may in reality be found ; wisdom does not fly 
averse from the tables of luxury ; but even there, 
the voice of genius adds interest to the festivity of 
profusion, while elegance presides ; that elegance, 
which, in its delicacy, appears the guardian of mo- 
rals, throwing shame on the presumption of vice, 
and giving a fine polish to the hardest asperity of 
virtue; teaching that to wound is not to mend, and 
that it is not through the crooked path of devia- 
tion that we arrive at happiness. 

Elegance, the legitimate child of prosperity, may 
exist, be nurtured and even improved, when its pa- 
rent is no more seen ; becoming a sentiment, an 

19 



146 

impulse, a principle, which, in honouring another, 
forgets not to respect itself. 

While this elegance remains, misfortune cannot 
know disgrace, nor will it derive its consolation 
from the raving of disappointment, as if that afflu- 
ence it had loved and lost, were an enemy to vir- 
tue. 

If the hard and bitter heart is neither to be sof- 
tened nor amended by prosperity, it is equally sure 
that kind feelings, and honourable principles are un- 
spoiled by her blandishments, for the true possessor 
of such principles estimates riches but as a trust, con- 
fided, not for the exclusive good of his individual 
person, but for more generous participation, to 
bestow, and to relieve, to protect and to delight, 
in causing the rays of blessing to descend, like the 
light of heaven, with equal munificence upon the 
fortunate and the unfortunate, in amenities and 
consolations — in kindness, and affection. 

Are then the attributes of prosperity of no avail ? 
is the source, which holds the fountain of our joys, 
comforts, and preservation, to be considered a 
mere obstruction to virtue ? growing like a sickly 
excrescence, over the healthful forms of nature; 
but to exhaust and to corrupt ? or is it envy, which, 
following close upon excellence, seeks to blemish 
the fair and the flourishing — active and dangerous 
as the serpent in the sun-beam, in pouring out her 
venom against prosperity, strikes at the prospe- 
rous. 



147 
THE PASSIONS. 

ESSAY III. 

Our virtues may sometimes cause us to suffer, 
even greatly ; as forbearance and fortitude and re- 
signation imply the endurance of insult, of injury or 
of trials. But the sufferings of virtue are so sublime, 
so rich in precept, and so crowned with rewards, 
that the reflecting mind must learn, and the sen- 
sible heart will feel, that to triumph over the Pas- 
sions, is to triumph over the malignity of fortune ; 
and in subduing ourselves, Ave virtually subdue the 
many evils of our destiny. 

As no tyranny equals that of the Passions ; nei- 
ther is there any misery so sure as that of sub- 
mitting to their unlimited controul ; the greatest 
peril, the lowest obloquy, the most sarcastic con- 
tempt, are found to follow and fall upon the unre- 
strained career of those powerful mental, moral, 
and personal enemies of virtue, and of happiness. 

The Passions, in their excess, are seen to dis- 
tort, and for the time being, to destroy, the human 
countenance — changing the serene energy of dig- 
nified command, which speaks in the fine features 
of civilized man, to the vulgar violence of savage 
brutality — -altering the angel sweetness of beauti- 
ful woman, to the character and contour of a mer- 
ciless Demon ; for what is so fearful as the mad- 
ness of the irascible ? what so dreadful as the pur- 
pose of the revengeful ? what so vile as the in- 
sinuation of the envious ? so abject as the selfish 



148 

ness of the sordid? or so ridiculous as the excesses 
of the vain and the sensual ? Nor is it irrelative tq 
confirm this by a fact, adduced on the authority of 
Madame de Stael, that all the jacobins, actively 
concerned in the horrors of the reign of murder, 
were individually distinguished by the same sort of 
countenance — pale, nervous, and agitated, moving 
from side to side, like a wild beast in his cage. And 
when seated, poising themselves, without rising, in 
a sort of stationary restlessness, indicating the im- 
possibility of repose. 

Thus powerful is the sway of the evil passions. 
So comfortless and so frightful the distortion of 
their fury. 

Even ambition, in whose sublime features and 
high feelings, there is the fascination of glory, and 
the charm of intrepidity ; in striving to push others 
aside, who are, with the same efforts, struggling to 
climb the same steep ascent, and to reach the same 
dangerous apex of power ; how often is it seen 
losing its hold, and falling, with a velocity which 
strikes, crushes, and disables the victim from again 
rising in triumph, or succeeding in future honors to 
authority. 

If distress or discomfiture be thus the possible 
portion of the most seductive, and the least malev- 
olent of human passions, of what avail, and to what 
effect is the nurture or the indulgence of the more 
mean and less morally attractive ? 

Nor let it be urged, that these unsubdued foes 
of feature, of manners and of mind, owe their des- 
potic empire to the fervour of youth ; that time, 
chilling the circulations into sluggishness, will, with 



149 

the same hard grasp, cool, calm, and quiet the hot 
spirit of turbulent inclination. Believe it not. To 
the moral, as to the physical habits of man, age 
brings no remedy for the neglectful. At that pe- 
riod, the objects of sense may change, but not the 
violence of sensation : the fretful and the fu- 
rious will not, through the medium of disgust, be 
rendered amiable and conciliatory. The extrava- 
gant love of pleasure will change but to the intem- 
perate desire of gold, or the more excessive ava- 
rice|of power. 

As certainly, ere the autumn of human existence 
has passed away, will the strong passions yield to 
the stronger understanding, or be restrained by the 
better principle : thence delay were fatal. Age 
may never come, or were it sure as is the moment 
of dissolution, does the mind bloom and brighten 
as the body bends and breaks ? Will the heart 
expand and grow kind, amid the solitude of out- 
lived and buried affections, or under the wrongs 
and estrangements of painful humanity? 

There is of lengthened existence, a probable pe- 
riod, to which improvement does not belong: when 
to vegetate and to suffer, are all that remain of 
the beautiful and the glorious. 

Thrice happy they, Avho prepared for the pos- 
sible result of long protracted years, have said to 
the whole host of lawless passions, " Peace ! and 
sin no more /" 



150 



STANZAS 

TO AARON BURR. 

LATE VICE-PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. NOW 
UNDER IMPRISONMENT, AND TRIAL FOR HIGH TREASON. WRIT- 
TEN WHILE THE TRIAL WAS PENDING, BUT NEVER BEFORE PUB- 
LISHED. 



Thou wonder of the Atlantic shore, 
Whose deeds a million hearts appal ; 

Thy fate shall pity's eye deplore, 
Or vengeance for thy ruin call. 

Thou man of soul! whose feeble form 

Seems as a leaf the gales defy, 
Though scattered in sedition's storm, 

Yet borne by glorious hope on high. 

Such did the youthful Amnion seem, 

And such does Europe's scourge (1) appear, 

As, of the sun, a vertic beam, 
The brightest in the golden year. 

Nature, who many a gift bestowed, 
The strong herculean limbs denied, 

But gave, a mind, where genius glowed, 
A soul, to valour's self allied. 

Ambition, as her curse was seen, 

Thy every blessing to annoy ; 
To blight thy laurels tender green ; 

The banner of thy fame destroy. 



151 

Ambition by the bard defined (2) 
The fault of god-like hearts alone. 

Like fortune in her frenzy, blind, 
Here gives a prison, there a throne. 



CHILDREN. 

ESSAY IF. 



Does happiness properly belong to earth? 

In possibility it may ; but as a rare and radiant 
gem, not to be purchased with gold, like a slave ; 
nor won by beautiful forms, like the vain and the 
luxurious ; nor conferred like court favour and mili- 
tary glory, on the daring and the ambitious. 

That wealth and power, which as happiness, this 
poor world envies and covets, are — when realized, 
— not happiness ; that is a seldom visitor, and like 
the appearance of angels, may be said to come at 
intervals, and long between. 

The present writer has sometimes thought that 
happiness might be found, even upon earth, but 
only in the hearts of Children, over whose exis- 
tence not more than five or six years of the light 
of life has yet shone ; Children who have neither 
been pampered into perversity, nor disciplined into 
formality. Children, in whose soft and divine fea- 
tures, there is all that we know and can believe of 
Cherubim and Seraphim; whose lightly curling 
locks and native graces, whose sweet voices, 
buoyancy of spirit, hilarity of mind, and tranquil- 
lity of repose ; whose grateful hearts and cares- 



152 

sing tdneg, so respond to every gentle emotion^ 
that it is difficult for the afflicted to gaze upon 
those pure and chosen of God, without tears of 
tender and devoted admiration, as such were of the 
kingdom of heaven* 

If wickedness sometimes seem to be born in the 
heart of a child, it should be considered a Lusus 
JVaturce, a deplorable exception, a moral distor- 
tion ; which, like physical deformity, appertains to 
the individual and not to the species. Usually, 
the cares and treacheries of life, not the cruelty 
of nature, have hardened the soft, and changed the 
sweet, and roughened the kind and estranged the 
courteous. 

Truly, that heart which remains detached and 
unmoved by the graceful charm of sportive child- 
hood, and the unbought affections of smiling infan- 
cy, must be of harder materials, and more surely 
fitted for the treasons, stratagems and spoils* of 
the poet, than the man at whose birth, one source 
of enjoyment was dried up ; one gift denied to his 
senses, and one consolation refused to his heart, 
even by the creator of all things. 



* " The man that has not music in his soul," &c. &c, 



1^8 
^LEASING AND PLEASE11 

ESSAY V. 

The simple wish of pleasing, is perhaps laudable* 
and within certain limits, usually successful, while 
beyond the point of moderation and its proprie- 
ties, like every excess and all other extremes, it 
countervails itself, becoming even more repulsive 
than that total negligence which borders on con- 
tempt. 

As in a free and faithful intercourse of mind, 
any species of compulsion and every class of de- 
ception is offensive, in the extraordinary effort to 
be agreeable, there appears a kind of sorcery, 
whose false charm is meant to impel the affec- 
tions, or to impose on the understanding; this, be- 
gun in distrust, not unfrequently terminates in dis* 
like. 

A lady of distinction, having personal motives 
for conciliating a certain great artist, was heard to 
exclaim, " No my dear Mr. S not a step fur- 
ther ; it would injure your health, which for worlds 
I would not were upon my account exposed to the 
cold blowing of this comfortless east-wind." 

The man of genius bo wed in pleased sensibility; 
for solicitude thus gratuitously obtruded by a lady 
elevated in rank, loveliness and accomplishment, 
until her carriage drawing up, in turning to the 
coachman's seat, she ejaculated, even in the same 
caressing tones, " my dear Caesar— -remember t|ie 

20 



154 

roads — be attentive to your horses, and beyond all$ 
take the most particular care of yourself." 

The complexion of the great artist altered to a 

greenish hue, for " my dear Mr. S " could in 

no way, and by no means be associated with the 
qualities of the African charioteer. 

The pleasu re of pleasing had given to this lady 
a certain cadence in expressions of regard, for 
which, like pearls thrown at random to the multi- 
tude, as every one partook, no one was grateful. 

The countenance, the manner, the disposition, 
and above all, the capacity of discriminating may 
be said to form a true criterion, by which we at 
once experience and communicate the pleasure of 
that truly pleasing kindness, which like the bene- 
volence of mercy, is twice blessed ; enjoying and en- 
gaging, rewarding and obtaining, a kindness neither 
heated into adulation, nor cooled into ceremony; 
the expression of whose real praise, though sel- 
dom uttered, is seen, felt and understood: for by 
what nation or people, or individual, is the language 
of the heart unread and unknown? A language, 
the possession and the privilege of all and every 
one, be they of riches or of poverty, alike read- 
ing, and alike liable to mistake or to misinterpret, 
the true meaning of its mysteries ! 

Though it sometimes seems as if prosperity, in 
searing the inmost mind, had contracted the ex- 
ternal senses, obscuring knowledge and blotting 
out recollection ; even throwing a sort of oblivion 
over personal identity ; while the trials of necessi- 
ty appear in the moral, as in the mechanic world, 
by blows and bruises, to brighten and enlarge the 



155 

capacities, giving activity to the senses, and im- 
provement to individual character. 

And jet truly, the pleasure of pleasing is sel- 
dom awarded to adversity, every effort m&de by 
her to such effect, in creating suspicion, occasions 
blame, causes misconstruction, and brings reproach, 
from which the conscious being shrinks abashed — 
or with fired indignation, and prouder pity, retires 
to the silent calm of solitary reflection. 

To the moral observer, who, seeking instruc- 
tion, labours at improvement, There is good in eve- 
ry thing — most in the severe. If to the votaries of 
fashion belong the Hope and the pleasure of pleas- 
ing, and to the Anchorite, the extacies of enthusias- 
tic Faith, there remain for the merciful heart of 
benevolence, as the most pure and perfect of all, 
the rewards of that Charity, which we are taught 
to believe, more eloquent than the tongues of angels, 
kinder than Hope, greater than Faith, and more gift- 
ed than the understanding of all earthly knowledge ! 



RIGHTS AND WRONGS. 

ESSAY VI. 

How prone is the daring mind to assert its indi- 
vidual rights, how seldom does it recur to its per- 
sonal duties. As if the mere abstract power im- 
plied the necessity, admitted the fitness, gave per- 
mission, or, in fact, brought apology for deviation 
©f any kind. 



156 

Since to every individual right, there is morally 
annexed a relative duty ; if the wife or daughter 
of a prosperous or industrious man have the right of 
subsistence from his income, or through his exer-? 
tions, there is equally due the returns of attention, 
assistance and obedience. Even as political pro- 
tection claims allegiance, support implies depen- 
dence, and benefits call for every possible rermjb 
neration. 

.Mary Wolstoncrqft, by her pernicious precepts, 
and still more pernicious practice, has, in proclaim* 
ing " the rights of woman" involved the sex ir* 
more real wrongs, and been the occasion of greats 
er restraints upon their intellectual character, than 
the whole host of masculine revilers; since, if 
those who are most capable of comprehending 
the perfection of moral beauty, turn aside, in pre* 
ference, to the deformity of vice, if the clear light 
of knowledge prove to the female vision, a mere 
ignis fatuus 9 leading on and plunging down to deep 
depravity and hopeless perdition ; it were better, 
infinitely better, to remain amid the darkness of 
folly, or in the vacuity of ignorance. 

Yet if one presumptuous woman, possessed of 
mind, and cultivating its attainments, has vainly 
rejected the good, in weak preference of evil, not 
only by personal error, but by profligate opinion, 
wandering from the straight path, with endeavours 
to seduce the innocent, and mislead the unwary; 
let her remain the land-mark and not the model of 
her kind ; while the correct and capable translatQr 



157 

of Epictetnsf the pious and enlightened Barbauld, 
the instructing and delighting Edgeworth, the pro- 
found, the eloquent, the admired Lucy Aikin, with 
the manv> and nearly innumerable female writers, 
whose genius, virtues, and feminine graces, having 
improved and embellished the sex, and the species, 
still remain examplars worthy of applause, and 
meriting imitation* 

Let these, and such as these, be seen effectually 
convincing, and eventually converting, the disclaimer 
and the skeptic; by their own incontrovertible evi- 
dence, be it admitted, that cultivated talents, and lite- 
rary endowment, may, in meliorating the condition 
of the individual, instruct the mind, improve the 
heart and protect the morals, even of the least 
powerful portion of the human family. 

Mary Wolstoncroft, affecting to appear a hot-- 
headed Republican, resorted to revolutionary 
France, and in the levity of her restless and unsub- 
dued spirit, among jacobin compatriots, learned to 
distort and to distract ; like those Architects of ruin % 
was ambitious to overthrow, and destroy ; but how 
did the daring experiment end ? Even by a life of 
mental extravagance, and counteracted passions, an 
attempted suicide, and a disastrous fate. In fine, 
misery, ignominy and destitution. 

In throwing aside the regulations, and disdaining 
the consolations of Christianity, the morals and the 
destiny of this woman would have dishonored the 
principles, and disgraced the profession of a pagan, 

* Elizabeth Carter. 



158 

Most surely, neither the physical, the mental, 
nor the moral constitution of woman, admit of her 
leading armies, or directing navies. To hold the 
helm of command either upon the ocean or the 
soil; she cannot acquire the hardy nerve of the 
surgeon, nor the bold voice of the public orator ; 
debate does not become her, and her authority is 
never to be maintained by coercion. Yet her sta- 
tion is high and important ; her influence and her 
duties, lasting and mighty ; the enchantment of 
beauty, the delight of kind and healing concilia- 
tions, the world of literature, the fine arts, the elo- 
quent superiority of conversation, with the ho- 
mage of admiration, respect and attachment, are 
supremely her own. Also the first ideas of filial 
infancy, the early impressions of maturing youth, 
and the late consolations of departing age, are her 
peculiar attributes. 

What is man, deprived of honourable affection- 
ate woman? A brutal sensualist, or a gloomy mis- 
anthrope, whom individuals do not respect, and the 
best portion of society derides and deserts. 

Neither has it been thought that political opin- 
ion, the sciences, nor any of those themes, which 
interest the feelings, and occupy the understanding 
of her companion man, are so far out of her de- 
partment as to be regarded by woman with indif- 
ference, provided violence and supercilious de- 
meanour be not permitted to carry their disgrace 
to her person. 

When high endowments and decided talents are 
united with mild manners and modesty of deport- 
ment, they will please in either sex; and for wo* 



169 

man, when the despotic reign of beauty has faded 
away, the influence of such talents, and such man- 
ners, will remain powerful and attractive, ever 
honoured, and always admired. 

If the coarse conduct, plain persons, and neg- 
lectful habits of some literary women, are deci- 
dedly repulsive, those defects, and not the addi- 
tional accomplishment of understanding, are the 
cause of that repulsion ; for the mind of woman 
is degraded only, when, forfeiting her real rank and 
forgetting its influence, she endeavours or affects 
to steal upon the bold occupations, the active pro- 
fessions, the exclusive dictatorship of man. 

To conclude ; the high station which woman 
sustains in the Christian world, is surely due to the 
benign influence of the Christian religion. What 
is woman in Barbarian, Pagan and Mahomedan 
countries? What was she in the polished region of 
enchanting Greece, or in the glorious empire of 
triumphant Rome ? With the exception of ten or 
twelve solitary instances, a slave or a victim. 

Amid the civilized blessings of Christianity, she 
is the companion, the confidant, the adviser and the 
consoler of man — the guide and guardian of his 
happiness, the comforter of his afflictions, upon 
whose attractions his eye dwells, and his hope rests, 
from the first dawn of awakened reason, to the 
last shade of declining memory : and from that 
ever sacred source we are taught that the true 
rights and the real happiness of woman, are only to 
be protected and enlarged, by her conforming to its 
divine precepts of forbearance and reliance, re- 



160 



iiiembering and regarding the reasonable limitation 
bf her power, as the honourable extent of her 
duties. 



WHAT IS TRUE PRINCIPLE? 

ESSAY VII. 

It has been questioned whether truly correct 
principle be the result of precept co-operating 
with example ; or a nobler sentiment emanating 
from the soul? 

With Helvetius, I have believed that culture 
can do much, provided the mind be happily or- 
ganized ; but I have not believed with Helvetius, 
that education is omnipotent in power and in 
glory : to effect every thing for the heart, and for 
the understanding. 

Since the innate disposition for right, and the 
actual propensity to wrong, are so individually 
marked, by nature herself, as to seem almost in- 
vincible ; the materialist may attribute this propen- 
sity, and that disposition, to the nerves, to the 
blood, or to the muscles. If as a parent anxious 
for his offspring, he has traced the fact, he will not 
deny its existence. 

Under the same irresistible belief, I have de- 
fined true principle, to be a sense of duty, an im- 
pulse of virtue, a perception of right, which, with 
capacity to discern and to discriminate, feels be- 
fore it reasons, and acting from the rectitude of its 
own original nature, resists evil, and does good. 



161 

without the hope of reward, the calculation of 
profit, or the doubt of timidity : it is forbearing, 
and conciliates ; placable, and pardons ; tender, 
and consoles ; active, and assists : it is both grate- 
ful and beneficent — faithful to acknowledge, and 
prompt to bestow ; for when was the heart of in- 
gratitude allied to the feelings of generosity ? 

True principle is sincere, and knows not to de- 
ceive — firm, and will not be tempted-— pure, and 
repels corruption. It is unchanging because uner- 
ring. It is disinterested, and travels by no crooked 
path to fortune. In the proud dignity of self re- 
spect it is elevated above the egotism of vanity ; 
and in perfect humility, always known to sacrifice 
the selfish to the social affections. 

Severe in character, but cordial in kindness — 
studious of improvement, and living to utility, it 
neither lends the hours to idleness, nor gives the 
heart to presumption. 

Such are the properties which the present wri- 
ter has believed to contain the elements of true 
principle, even that true principle which must feel 
honestly, in order to act worthily : and is this, like 
a mechanic art* to be studied and learned, and prac- 
ticed by that merely reasoning perseverance which 
coldly reflects, deliberates and resolves ? Counting 
the cost and receipting the advantage of every vir- 
tue : a plausible substitute, specious and pretending, 
but born of the brain, and never approaching the 
heart? as devoted to self interest and existing for 
the world ; the one is its true standard, the other 
its chosen reward. 
21 



162 

Yet most readily be it conceded, that great and 
grateful and efficient is the influence of just pre- 
cept united to right example, powerful to confirm 
improve and enlighten the capacities of a well 
organized mind, and frequently and forcibly is 
it found to counteract the perverse temper of 
hearts, which, bad by nature, might become atro- 
cious through neglect. 

To corrupt the principles of the originally vir- 
tuous were probably more arduous than to cor- 
rect the propensities of the evil disposed ; for the 
moral feeling shrinks from contamination, and the 
pure and peaceful heart, clothed in humility, dares 
not trust its own strength, but fears and shuns the 
possible contagion of evil. 

Not thus the offender. As the hardihood of his 
character, rising to defiance, fears nothing and 
braves every thing, he may, in the bold presumption 
of his passions, draw near, and in listening to the 
eloquence of truth, be unexpectedly won by the 
charm of its accent to abandon the misery of of- 
fence, and to seek the happines of well-doing. 

In opposition to this, see the mechanically vir- 
tuous, who has not the image of God's goodness 
stampt upon his soul ; if seduced by perverted rea- 
son, or misled by unbridled passion, the mental ob- 
duracy of his nature will neither yield nor retract; 
consequently cannot be softened into reform, nor 
soothed into reflection. 

Yet this should not discourage the doubtful, nor 
intimidate the repentant. Let these rather de- 
rive instruction by adverting to the history of the 
divine Socrates, in whose character nature had 



163 

blended bad propensities with good dispositions; 
sublime genius with destructive passions. The mo- 
ral and the wise, even in early youth, proving 
sufficiently powerful to overcome the evil and the 
foolish, not throughthe omnipotence of education, 
but by the determined energy of his own correct- 
ed will, and the active integrity of an originally su- 
perior soul ; for the inclinations of his well organi- 
zed mind were virtuous, those of his unruly pas- 
sions vicious — wisdom improving the one, and sub- 
verting the other, constituted what may be termed 
correct principle ; elucidated by the moral genius 
and mental graces of his life, the mild philosophy 
and faithful precept of his death. 

The conclusions to be deduced are, that those 
to whom nature has given the best temperament, 
material and intellectual, are most capable of ap- 
proaching the height of human perfection ; yet 
the more deficient have strength and means to re- 
solve themselves into improvement, physical, intel- 
lectual and moral ; while all who feel and think 
and reason, may become good, and kind, and vir- 
tuous ; provided they do not stifle the small, but 
sure voice of conscience, which God has given 
them. 

Neither does it demand the sublime wisdom of 
Socrates to extirpate the bad, and to cultivate the 
good, that is born and lives within us : it is a plain 
and simple lesson, in which we must be our own im- 
mediate instructors ; and for which, the most mode- 
rate abilities are competent. At the same time it 
is a lesson sufficiently profound to occupy and to in- 
terest the most reflective mind, the most feeling 



164 



heart, and the most comprehensive genius. A les- 
son rich in profit, high in honour, and profuse of 
the best rewards on earth and in heaven. 



MUTABILITY. 

essay vm. 



Is it a melancholy or a consolatory reflection, 
that the moral faculties, like the physical and men* 
tal attributes, exist but in continued Mutability to 
dissolution ? 

If the kindest affections of the human heart 
wear out, so do its animosities ; as the friend, who 
was beloved and approved yesterday, can, without 
sensible cause, be distrusted, and even detested to- 
morrow, 

And the man who held his enemy in reprobation 
during the year that has passed away, in meeting 
him with softened asperity, or with tolerating in- 
difference, can on the present season, or at some 
more distantly auspicious period, be soothed into 
commendation, or warmed into regard. 

That reputed moralist, Samuel Johnson, has as- 
serted, that he loved a good hater, which assertion 
does, in my unassuming opinion, appear to indicate 
an inconsiderate brain, and an irritated heart ; for 
what is a good hater ? Is it one who cannot relent, 
and will not forgive ? or rather is it not one whose 
enmity leads on to violence, cruelty, and if possi-* 
ble, to extermination ? 



165 

Is the man who hates, happy? Does he not 
rather endure greater anguish than his victim? 
Can we bid a fellow mortal suffer, and be calm? 
The angry man, he who inflicts and injures, is the 
true self tormentor ; his hurried step — his raving 
voice — his restless eye, and his pale and quivering 
lip, all proclaim distress and discomfiture ; a worm 
that never dies, and a fire that cannot be quench- 
ed, while the fury exists and remains unconquered. 

The Almighty has thus permitted the retribu- 
tion of punishment to live in the heart of the iras- 
cible, teaching how much better it were in obe- 
dience to the divine injunction, to love, cherish, and 
bear with each other — that is, to love where possi- 
ble — to cherish when useful — to bear, and forbear 
always; since however transient the despotic reign 
of passion may prove, the suffering and the shame 
it occasions, will, in effect, be too permanent. 

What is more afflictive, or more offensive, than 
to find the passions quicken as the senses decline ? 
when alterations of person, of opinions, and of feel- 
ings, daily and hourly arrive, and when the effort 
should be to take heed to our ways, that we yield 
not to vexation or violence of any kind. 

As the human animal was not constituted to en- 
dure the irritability of perpetually wasting excess, 
neither Was the intellectual being so organized; 
and there is a period of sublunary existence, ere 
the incapacities of age have come, in which the 
constitution of body and of mind must resort to 
the rest and the remedy of mildness and modera- 
tion: — that is, provided the mental light of mo- 
ral principle be not wholly extinguished. 



166 



The wisest man has said, that all below is vanity 
and vexation : the most foolish may learn, that even 
these are uncertain and mutable, as are the clouds 
and the sun-beams, which alternately frown and 
smile upon all around us. 

Still, it is to be feared, that the irascible feel- 
ings have greater longevity than the kind disposi- 
tions ; and poor human nature is more usually 
given up to the evil demon of envy, hatred and 
malice, than to the good angel of mercy, justice, 
forbearance, and commendation : this admitted, in 
what catholic purgatory can we be so purified as 
to become subjects worthy of the kingdom of hea- 
ven? 



PIETY, FILIAL AND FAITHFUL. 

ESSAY IX. 

How many persons escape from the performance 
of their highest duties, by affecting to hold these 
like mere pecuniary contracts, dependant on the 
conduct of others : yet the injunctions of religion 
and morality are positive, not conditional ; for we 
are told to love God, and to honour our parents, 
though our afflictions may be such, that heaven 
seems to have bestowed nothing of good ; while 
some parents appear mentally and morally, not 
very worthy to be honoured. 

But as there is a divine mystery around the om- 
nipotent name of the Creator, there is likewise 



167 

a kind of holiness, as the very word indicates, at- 
tached to filial Piety, which the more virtuous 
must feel, and which the most wicked may fear, 
even as the ancient heathens have asserted, and 
the holy scriptures confirmed, that the denuncia- 
tions of an injured and afflicted parent will usually 
prove fatal. 

What, in human atrocity, appears more dreadful, 
than a child, taunting, reproaching, abusing, and 
even intimidating a parent ? or what more lovely, 
than supporting, sustaining, and consoling the weak- 
ness, the wants, and the sufferings of distress and 
decrepitude ? Even the young and beautiful Anti- 
gone, by the side of the Hind and despairing 
CEdipus ! 

Yet surely this obedience of children does not 
enjoin the sacrifice of themselves, in any way ; and 
still less does it imply or permit the relinquishment 
of any one moral obligation ; as heaven is above 
earth, so is our duty to that Father who is in hear 
ven, beyond any observance which can be due to 
a mere mortal. 

Modern Philosophy, as inculcated by revolu- 
tionary France, intending to destroy by depraving, 
began at the foundation in an endeavour to weak- 
en the force of co-relative duty. But the accu- 
rate observer will find the deportment of the child, 
to be the test of truth in character ; and where 
that is exemplary, doubt not of finding the quali- 
ties of an Angel. 



1©8 



YOUTHFUL INGENUOUSNESS AND 
OBDURACY. 

ESSAY X. 

As but few things in earthly existence appear 
so attractively charming as the simple ingenuous- 
ness of vernal youth ; — not knowing, and thence 
not distrusting those wiles and that wickedness 
which afflict the heart of experience, so to the dis- 
positions of young persons, always, or often* can- 
vassing motives, investigating actions, and suspicious 
of principles, there seems to belong a hardness of 
nerve, and an insidiousness of intention, which age 
will probably resolve into cunning, strengthen into 
obduracy, or contract into misanthropy. 

Like certain fruits, forced in a hot-house, those 
young stoics may be said to disclose bloom without 
sweetness ; a premature ripeness, dry, sour and 
solid, which, never permitted to feel the genial 
glow of nature, cannot be expected by the mere 
movement of time, to melt into tenderness, or be 
enriched by the tine taste and mellow excellence 
of perfection. Although cultivated by art, and la- 
boured with care, these are less kindly grateful 
than the wild produce of the field and the wood. 



169 
POLITENESS. 

ESSAY XL 

To the word polite, as if derived from polished, 
we have usually annexed the ideas of cultivation, 
refinement, dignity, and propriety, even these, as 
not exclusively belonging to exterior accomplish- 
ment, but resulting from, and united with the no* 
bier virtues of heart, and the finer faculties of 
mind. Hence the polite is known by a demeanour 
of person, easy and graceful, combined with good 
sense, discriminating and forbearing — kind tem- 
per, accepting and bestowing — mild benevolence, 
relinquishing its individual gratifications, and in all 
honour, preferring those of another. 

The result is, that politeness, including and unit- 
ing manner and mind, does not consist in mere exter- 
nal address, its deportment of body, nor its adu- 
lation of language : for the lavish excess of verbal 
flattery, is so far from being the criterion of po- 
liteness, that it may be observed of uneducated 
persons, when suddenly elevated from want to 
wealth, if not grossly rough, arrogating, and ostenta- 
tious, they are for the most part frivolous, and fini- 
cal, familiarly and indiscriminately extolling; seem- 
ing to hold such efforts as the perfection of po- 
liteness. 

But for the perfection of politeness, the individ- 
ual should inherit an evident expansion of heart, 
and an adequate proportion of brain, quick per- 
ception, nice discernment, even a sort of intuitive 
22 



170 

glance of mind, with the graces of forbearance, pa- 
tience, and dignified compliance, when in yielding 
the preference of his taste, and the inclination of 
his fancy, to the comfort, the pleasure, or the ca- 
price of another, he appears to act in unison with 
his own wishes ; as an apparent dissatisfaction would 
seem to imply direct reproof, or indirect reproach, 
even of those at whose instance, or upon whose ac- 
count, the sacrifice had been made ; thus foolishly 
cancelling obligation, when all hope and every 
chance of redress has passed away. 

Active, or formal officiousness, causing trouble, 
or bringing constraint, is so repugnant to politeness, 
that it is only more tolerable than the chilling apa- 
thy of determined neglect. 

If in politeness, we may not express truths un- 
courteous and unpleasant, neither can we, consis- 
tently with its best principles, utter false senti- 
ments, or prefer opinions destitute of integrity. 

Even contradiction may possibly be so modifi- 
ed, as that offending no proper principle of polite- 
ness, it would bring no vexation to the mind, nor 
leave any resentment upon the memory. 

As the proper principles of politeness are close- 
ly allied to the high moral endowments, the truly 
polite is courteous, not faithless — yielding, not ab- 
ject — patient and attentive, but neither insensible 
nor cringing— rather mentally sympathising than 
orally professing, and in full self-possession, neither 
light nor loud — nor a boaster, nor a scorner ; but, 
in sparing the absent character, seemingly to res- 
pect the kind and honest feelings of the society 
present. As in submitting his taste, his fancies, and 



171 

his better accommodation, to the invalid, the wea- 
ried, the humble, and the bashful ; he, neither as- 
sumes merit, nor flies from acknowledgement. 

In fine, true politeness is a sentiment of the soul, 
a fair feature of the mind, which no individual of 
a furious or crafty disposition can invariably dis- 
play ; since, in the habit of giving indulgence to the 
atrocious feelings, and anxious only for their own 
persons — these have found but a single object in the 
centre of creation, that single object being self — 
making exactions, but offering no sacrifices ; while 
true politeness, like real charity, even in suffering 
wrong, is kind, vaunteth not itself, does not behave 
unseemly, seeketh not its own, and is not easily 
provoked : obeying the apostolic injunction, " Be 
pitiful, he courteous /" 



LINES TO 

MRS. MONTGOMERY. 

WIDOW OF THE HERO WHO FELL BEFORE THE WALLS OF 

QUEBEC. 



Widow of him, a nation's boast, 
In life's meridian summer lost ; 
Beloved of him, an empire's pride, 
With whom an hero's genius died. 
Montgomery, o'er whose tranquil brow, 
Collected honours seem to flow. 

Yet not to thy illustrious name, 
Thy lineal, thy connubial fame, 



172 

Do the instructed muses raise, 
Their tribute of unflattering praise. 

To thee, the great Creator gave, 
Each boon that fortune's children crave — 
Gave taste, and talent, formed to charm, 
The judgment clear, the temper calm, 
The soul sublime, the generous breast, 
Where all the kindred mercies rest ; 
That when with soft and timid eye, 
The child of grief and penury — 
From the bold front of insult turns, 
And life's appalling lesson learns. 
Thy tender accent, nature taught, 
Steals from her sense the torturing thought, 
How once her youth attractive shone, 
And friends, and fortune were her own. 
These all are thine — and rank and name, 
But more than these thy virtues claim, 
Those winning virtues which impart, 
The cultured mind, the feeling heart. 

While yet a nation's vows proclaim, 
How dear her lost Montgomery's fame : 
Yet to that fame, new honours (1) give, 
And bid them with her freedom live ; 
Nor till that freedom feels decay, 
Shall their least lustre fade away. 
Still the ne'er parted pang will turn, 
To him who fills yon gifted urn ; 
As if but yester's mournful eve, 
Had taught the severed heart to grieve, 

While yet thy country's pitying praise, 

Would the remembering marble raise, 

While yet her people's graceful tear, 

Is sparkling on the glorious bier, 

Shall not thy griefs some solace find, 

In deeds that move a nation's mind ? 

Deeds, through the earth's bright orbit known, 

Making that nation's boast thy own ! 



173 
TIME AND TRUTH. 

ESSAY XII. 

The progress of Time on the features of hu- 
man beauty, so often imperceptible to the indi- 
vidual, is usually as much exaggerated by the preju- 
dices of the world, as the charms of vernal youth 
are overrated by the passion of the lover. The 
one, elevating to the immortal loveliness of angels, 
the other, depreciating to the deformity of death, 
and the disgust of its total extinction. 

Yet the one opinion is not more worthy of being 
literally accepted, than is the other; as in this 
world, the mortal may not put on immortality : 
neither are the traces of original beauty to be 
wholly obliterated from the "face, divine" merely 
and solely, through the long succession of years, 
unaided by sorrow sickness or sin. 

But rather in the fine features of living beauty, 
as in those of architectural perfection, will the sub- 
lime and even the beautiful be found, and exist and 
attract, amid that desolation which leaves them 
exposed as Ruins. 



174 
WISDOM AND WICKEDNESS. 

ESSAY XIII. 

If Wisdom appear to have its individual absurdi- 
ties, genius its personal aberrations, and science 
its human fallibility, while to folly belongs the 
sometime seeming of good humour, to vice the apo- 
logy of eccentricity, and to atrocious Wickedness 
a few lucid intervals ; let not the base and the bru- 
tal exult, since it is nevertheless true, with admit- 
ted exceptions comparatively few and fatal, that 
Wisdom, and genius, and goodness, are virtually 
combined, and form a moral and mental union, 
which, like the supreme law of God, seems insepa- 
rable and immutable. 

The feeling heart, and profound mind, as most 
sensible, and best instructed, will usually be most 
perfect in the performance of every moral obliga- 
tion ; and the deep thought of sublime intellect, 
in correcting the temper, and improving the prin- 
ciples, must amend the heart. 

As converse to these, the plans and practices of 
evil propensities, vile morals, and wicked habits, 
may and do in their tendency, confound the weaker 
understanding, confuse the memory, and contract 
the imagination ; blunting all that is acute in such 
a mind, except cunning — prostrating all that is ele- 
vated in its character, except arrogance. 

As the best cultivated soil of a fine climate, will 
disclose the brightest flowers, the richest foliage, 
and the most generous fruit; — as the neglected 



175 

Weed has no hurtful power over the tall and luxu- 
riant shrub — as the serpent with the venom of his 
envy, can but strike the surface, without reaching 
the heart, or injuring the root of the mighty oak 
which he encircles ; even thus, the vanities and 
passions and vices of life are seldom found to de- 
teriorate, and never known to annihilate the mo- 
rals of a lofty mind. 

Many characters might be adduced from oral as 
from written history, confirming the simple truism, 
that genius, with all his nervous sensibility, is mo- 
rally happier, and practically better, than the fool- 
ish and the vile. 

JVewton, of intellect the most exalted, and the 
most studious, was gentle, patient, and the most 
morally good of mortals. Locke, pre-eminent in 
wisdom, virtuous and kind hearted. Sir Joshua 
Reynolds, the great artist and fine writer, was from 
his habitual mildness, assimilated to a lamb. Spen- 
cer, Hume, Robertson, Gibbon, Burke, and Herschel^ 
beloved, approved, and admired. Even amongst 
the fiery French, we read of the saintly Fenelon, 
the mild Helvetius, the virtuous Buffon, the moral 
Montesquieu, and the tender Marmontel. 

All who read history have the power to select 
thousands, the above being simply preferred as 
names best known, and most familiar. 

How amiably good, and sublimely eloquent, the 
female mind may become, under the influence of 
indulged genius and accurate instruction, was illus- 
trated in a former Essay, and it only remains for 
the reader and the writer to go, and do likewise. 



176 

STANZAS, 

INSCRIBED TO THE ORATOR OF THE CENTURY. (1) 



Tullius, when on thy serious ear, 

Descends, of praise the untutored strain, 

When, at thy word, the admiring tear 
Pours homage, seldom pour'd in vain; 

Canst thou, in modest wisdom, calm 
Mindless of what the million say, 

Turn from its gaze the speaking charm 
Of eyes, that meet no kindred ray. 

Hast thou, when Plenty's crowded shell 
Was pour'd for thee, and sought thy care, 

Disdain'd within her courts to dwell 
If bounty were not inmate there ? 

Let others on the brow confer 
Wreaths to immortal genius due, 

Thee — would the simplest muse prefer 
In feelings — more than genius — true. 

For thou, with pity's holy flame, 
Hast warmed the charities benign, 

Scorning of sordid care the claim, 
Hast made the richest virtues thine. 

To thee the gem of fame is given, 
Thine is the grateful heart's regard, 

The blessing — and the prayer to heaven 
For thee — are more than earth's reward. 



177 
WOMAN. 

ESSAY XIV. 

The influence of Woman in society, is most gene- 
rally apportioned to her personal charms, and if 
accomplishments of mind, and elegance of manner 
be united to these, the fair mortal, exalted to a di- 
vinity, receives worship and adoration, jn praises, 
and prayers, and sacrifices. 

Yet so fallacious are the very best promises of 
life, that this brightness of beauty seems, in shin- 
ing, but to expose, or mislead ; hence the most 
lovely are, even when unerring, usually among the 
hiost unfortunate of women ; either as the victims 
of married, or of solitary existence. 

Where beauty is, and love is not, envy cbmes, 
and fastidious criticism follows. Talents are term- 
ed pretence, or accused of ostentation. If mo- 
destly conversable, she is deemed conceited. If 
timidly silent— stupid. The graciousness of true 
delicacy is held as affectation; reserve imputed to 
pride, and the heavenly smile of native attrac- 
tion, given to coquetry: while the langour of dis- 
gust and distress, resulting from baffled hopes, and 
counteracted affections, is considered a false dis- 
play of interest, and assuming refinement. 

Such are the evil passions of the great world, 
there, Beauty finds but few friends, and accomplish- 
ment many foes ; and yet, contradictory as it may 
seem, the attraction of young and innocent love- 
liness cannot ultimately be resisted. The mag« 
23 



178 

net of her influence not only impels the strong 
and polished steel of masculine mind, but like the 
pure and precious composition of amber, attracts 
and collects the more worthless and volatile sub- 
stances of the earth. 

At the same time, and under every circumstance, 
for her, envy always lives, and never disappears ; 
the enchantment of her influence can neither dis- 
arm the fury, nor avert its detractions, nor com- 
mand her own destiny to rise beyond the reach 
of any earthly misfortune. 

If of youthful and accomplished Beauty, such 
are the fortunes and the fate ; neither is it thought 
that happiness will come with faded bloom, and 
bringing the oblivion of wrongs ; since, when no 
longer young, like dethroned monarchs, born to ar- 
bitrary power, it is as difficult for the abdicated 
beauty to forego authority, and to feel submission, 
as it is for the loyal and obedient lover, living on 
retrospection, to bestow the homage of his passion- 
ate regard on the mere dream of long extinguished 
glory. 

But safety, and serenity, may, at this period be 
her own, if not rejected for the vain hope of yet 
reaping the exhausted field of conquest; where 
wounds, defeat, and consequently disgrace, are the 
only remaining harvest. 

In fine, let the sensible amiable woman, who 
pleases without the sorcery of personal charms, 
and who can interest by manners, mind and morals, 
reflect, that if her empire be less supreme than that 
of unfortunate beauty, it has more of peace, and 
is of greater duration, less of bitterness and in- 



179 



evitable disaster. Since to her, the world is kind ; 
it grants to her affections the reward of fidelity — 
it allows to her misfortunes the loyalty of respect — 
it concedes to her virtues the tribute of approba- 
tion. 



MARRIAGE. 

ESSAY XV. 



Man looks for honour and for happiness, and 
with these in view, he marries. That disappoint- 
ment may not cross his path, let him reason on ef- 
fects, and in his wanderings and through his seekings, 
be not unmindful of consistency and coincidence. 

She who has proved an observant daughter, and 
been an obliging sister, cannot fail of becoming a 
true and amiable wife ; as, having held sacred the 
native charities, she will not slight those which so- 
ciety has instituted. 

Having studied and learned, to confer with wil- 
lingness, and to comply with readiness, she will 
equally understand where to command with in- 
truction, and how to preside with decorum ; and 
in respecting the mild duties of domestic subordina- 
tion, display the dignified gentleness of real au- 
thority. 

Has she practiced and preferred the simplicity of 
elegant neatness, as beyond the lustre of costly 
decoration ? she will, in her household, prove more 
regardful of economical propriety, than of osten- 
tatious display. 



180 

While in her heart religion is a sentiment, af- 
fianced to the sanctity of morals, she will give 
meekness and moderation to mark its course, and 
to prescribe its limits : while that attentive useful- 
ness, which in all things regards the relative and 
the social, remains the best hand-maid of rectitude 
and propriety. 

Has she honoured her first home, in feeling 
that her kindest duty and her first good principles 
originated there ? surely she will never permit that 
duty and those principles to wander from her bet- 
ter and more permanent establishment. 

The woman who has known, and does in all 
truth, follow the precept of such opinions, and 
is happily selected by the husband of her love, 
and obtains in that husband, a guardian, and 
guide, of kind and capable superiority ; a friend, 
trusting and assiduous, an affection, undeviating and 
unsuspecting ; let him not doubt that his will be 
the home of honour, and of happiness: since among 
the events of human life, nothing is more unusual 
than the dereliction of a strictly educated woman, 
who has realized in the object of her preference, 
goodness, confidence, fidelity and protection. 

For a woman thus taught, and thus habituated, 
is tender and grateful ; she feels, and she sympa- 
thizes ; she reflects and she benefits-^-her desire 
to merit estimation, and her hope to obtain respect ; 
for she well knows that in the moral observances 
there is worth and reputation ; but her heart also 
aspires to the blessings of honour and of happiness ; 
from the possession of which, if she have deli- 
cacy, she dare not, and if she have understandings 
she does not wander, 



181 

Yet should the donation of that honour which 
regards, and the possession of that happiness which 
rewards, be denied to her virtues, when her pure 
and sensible heart awakens to hope, and animates 
to reciprocation; is it harrowed by disappointment^ 
and distressed by dissimilarity ? is it defrauded of 
that protection, and refused that fidelity, which she 
sought, in which she trusted, and would gratefully 
and eternally have cherished ; does she find herself 
pitied by the affectionate, and possibly admired by 
the presumptuous; at once pursued and repulsed — 
pure in conduct, perhaps beautiful in person — yet 
left to coldness, neglect and desertion — what re- 
medy remains? 

Even that of her own approving conscience ! with 
the high estimation of the good, who can under- 
stand her feelings and her fate ; and the tender and 
applauding sentiment of the benevolent, who are 
willing to sympathize with every sufferer. 

The million — blending the penalties of misfor- 
tune with those of misconduct, may, in their ig- 
norance, mistake the true meaning of such a mind, 
and seeing her surrounded by attractions and follow- 
ed by injuries, even think it possible that the sa- 
credness of principle would not rise above the unit- 
ed influence of both ; as if the Almighty had not 
endowed the guileless with strength apportioned to 
their trials. 

Yet these — even the million — will learn to know, 
and in knowing, to venerate, where veneration is 
legitimately due. 



182 



STANZAS, 



TO A RECENTLY UNITED HUSBAND. 



In vain, upon that hand reclined, 
I call each plighted worth my own. 

Or rising to thy sovereign mind, 
Say that it reigns for me alo?ie. 

Since, subject to its ardent sway, 
How many hearts were left to weep, 

To find the granted wish decay, 
And the triumphant passion sleep ? 

Such were, of love the transient flame, 
Which by the kindling senses led, 

To every new attraction came, 
And from the known endearment fled. 

Unlike the gentle care that flows, 
With all the blest affections give, 

Unlike the generous hope that knows 
But for a kinder self to live. 

Was theirs the tender glance to speak 
Timid, through many a sparkling tear, 

The ever changing hue of cheek, 
Its flush of joy — its chill of fear ? 

Or theirs the full expanded thought, 
By taste and moral sense refined — 

Each moment with instruction fraught, 
The tutored elegance of mind ? 

Be mine the sacred truth that dwells 
On one, by kindred virtues known, 



183 

And mine, the chastened glance, which tells 
That sacred truth to him alone. 

No sordid hope's insidious guise, 
No venal pleasure's serpent twine, 

Invite those soul-illumined eyes, 

And hlendthis feeling heart with thine. 



CONCILIATION. 



Graced be the hour when severed friends unite, 
And loved the voice, whose softened tones endear^ 

Where the eye melting in its morning light, 
Dispels the cloud, and glistens through a tear 

When the heart freed from doubt V^ntangling wile, 
Nor joys, nor sorrows, but with pensive care, 

Speaks to the wedded heart, in sigh, or smile, 
And feels its questioned kindness answer there. 

While the regretful silence seems to plead, 
No more the timid hand its pledge denies ; 

No more shall hurried steps, in scorn proceed, 
Nor anger flash from quick averted eyes. 

Steeled was the breast, that with a felon's heart, 
Could, of confiding truth, its hope bereave ; 

Bid those whom heaven had joined, in madness part, 
Grieving to live— and living but to grieve. 

Reproach, with flushing cheek, and phrenzied brow, 

Sullen suspicion's cold regardless stare, 
Whence is thy sway — and where that midnight now, 

Which search'd the soul, and struck its horrors there 

Truth came — and as the Saviour's glance adored. 
Fell on the sealed eye, with opening ray ; 



184 

Her guiding light on darkest error poured, 
Gives mind to man, and clears its gloom away. 

Gives him to know, in blessing, to be blest, 

One friend, his joys — his portioned griefs to share, 

To find his refuge, in one sheltering breast, 
Source of his hope — and partner of his care. 



LOVE AND LIKENESS. 

ESSjSY XVI. 

We naturally and necessarily love our own like- 
ness, when perceptible in another, provided that 
likeness be not too uniform ; but occasionally di- 
versified by qualities of positive contrast. 

If a complete opposition be repulsive, a perfect 
resemblance is insipid, or more probably offensive : 
the woman, timid and irresolute, looks for courage 
and fortitude in her lover; while the man, obsti- 
nate and peremptory, desires softness and forbea- 
rance in the object of his honourable choice. 

Be his temper gloomy and misanthropic, cour- 
teousness and Gdiete de cceur are the qualities to 
console and reconcile him. 

Is he serious, sedate, and sedentary ? Cheerful- 
ness, activity and assiduity, are essential. Bold, proud, 
and irascible ? gentleness, tenderness, and silent ob- 
servance, will controul, or at least, disarm the evil 
spirit ; while in taste, talents, and virtues, the clo- 
ser the resemblance, the more certain the sympa- 



185 

thy, and the more permanent the union of love, 
friendship, honour and respect. 

Wisdom, integrity, delicacy, and talent, cannot 
continue happy, in alliance with ignorance, folly* 
rudeness and deviation, though the mere external 
senses may, for a season, find delight in that beauty, 
by which these are possibly decorated. Much less 
can goodness and gentleness bear or brook the as- 
sociation of positive vice, and presuming brutality. 

In fine, to love truly and constantly, the parties 
should resemble, but not reflect each other. Op- 
posing discords may sometimes have effect in mu- 
sic, but it is only by concords of sweet and blended 
variety, that the strains of human affections are 
made to harmonize. 



INSCRIPTION. 

FOUND AT CHANTILLY, ON AN ALTAR OF WHITE MARBLE, IN THE 
ISLAND OF LOVE, A BEAUTIFUL SPOT IN THE GARDENS SURROUND- 
ING THE CHATEAU, BELONGING TO THE PRINCE OF CONDE* 



N'offront qu'on coeur a la beauts, 
Aussi nud que la Verite ; 
Sans ailes comme la Constance — 
Sans armes comme l'Innocence i 
Tel fut l' Amour dans le siecle d'or, 
On ne le trouve plus, mais on le chercher encore. 

thus paraphrased, at the request of a young friend* 

Here at Beauty's graceful shrine, 
Thy devoted heart resign, 

24 



186 

Let the willing offering be 
Unwinged as changeless Constancy. 
Like Truth unrobed to every sense, 
— Unarmed as infant Innocence. 
Such by fabling bards wer'e told, 
Love appeared in age of gold, 
Such no more — the God, we find, 
Always courted — never kind. 
For now the wanton child is seen. 
With veiling vesture, fraudful mien, 
Around his philtered arrow flings, 
And cleaves the air with truant wings, 



PHYSIOGNOMY. 

ESSAY XVII. 



It has been objected, M. Lavater wants sys- 
tem. To me his work has seemed altogether sys- 
tematic and artificial. 

Although each particular principle appear to 
originate in the mere dream of imagination, yet 
with that dream, he theorizes, until every frag- 
ment seemingly has its aim and its end, while his 
details are minute and spun out so fine, that through 
mere feebleness in finishing, the thread of the ar- 
gument, is seldom entire, but rather, through its va- 
rious twistings, liable to be broken. 

If the detached features of forehead, eyes, nose 
and mouth, are pleasingly correct, yet when he 
unites these in order to form a perfect whole, sel- 
dom, perhaps never does such union produce either 
the beautiful or the interesting. 



187 

And yet his theory is specious, though in its 
elements ideal, and certainly not verified by actual 
every day's observation ; since that theory is found 
to particularize, when it ought to generalize, con- 
necting genius or virtue, or temper, with a precise 
form of individual feature, when experience shows 
that those may exist under every construction, co- 
lour and stature, that are human. 

To the simple judgment of the present writer 
it has seemed, that the moral habits, the disposition, 
the understanding, and the passions, give expres- 
sion, and in effect, stamp character on the features, 
without changing the tints, or altering the strong 
lineaments of original nature. Hence under the 
personal deformities of Gibbon, Johnson, Pope, 
Esop, and the divine Socrates himself, men of in- 
spired understanding, and of sublime moral at- 
tainments were found; neither does it appear that 
the indulgence, the dissipation, the passions, or the 
genius of Alcibiades, Edward the fourth of Eng- 
land, Spencer, Milton, and Bolingbroke, could dis- 
turb or distort the surpassing, but dissimilar beauty 
of their divinely intelligent faces. 

But M. Lavater is still found iterating and reite- 
rating, that to such, and such specific form of fea- 
ture, displayed in his sketch, we may always look 
for the alliance of goodness or talent, or refine- 
ment ; as on the reverse, for stupidity, or base- 
ness, or vulgarity. 

And yet, if at the first attentive observation of 
an individual, hitherto unknown, we receive sensi- 
ble impressions, or form actual opinions, it is with- 
out mental reference, or critical regard to the 
complex laws of Lavater. 



188 

As Physiognomy is a sentiment, even in' nature, 
of which the infant who cannot reason, and the 
brute animal who only fawns and fears, are sus- 
ceptible, we are gratefully attracted by certain 
characteristic features, and painfully repelled by 
others ; but does this impulsion, or that repulsion, 
surely indicate either virtue, or vice, in the subject 
of our attention ? Is it not rather the result of 
something that assimilates with our aversions, or 
sympathizes with our propensities ? for sure, though 
perhaps secret, is the prepossession we feel for 
what bears our likeness, provided that likeness be 
not in effect, a facsimile ; and the resemblings, 
somewhat diversified, are the result of simple na- 
ture, without design or affectation. 

Does not the most irresistible likeness exist in 
sketches of Caricatura f yet who would choose 
to be delineated after that fashion ? And what is 
more offending than the mimickry of our manner 
and attitude, unless, indeed, it be the constant echo 
of our uttered sentiments, when another, adopting 
what we have spoken, and possibly spoken well, 
is guilty of the verbal plagiarism of making this 
their own, at the next chance conversation ; by 
which fraudulent conveyance, we are liable to hear 
our original ideas quoted under the sanction of an- 
other's name ; and in addition to the alarm thus 
given to our pride, is that of the more selfish af- 
fections, as if we were cheated not only of what 
might be denominated personal property, but hav- 
ing surreptitiously snatched from us our very legiti- 
mate offspring. 

Jn fine — to recapitulate — At appears that certain 



189 



individuals of the human race are so instinctively, 
that is, irresistibly attracted, and attached, at sight 
of each other, that like the bloom, and perfume 
of flowers, or particular notes in music, they seem 
intended by nature to assimilate, and as of neces- 
sity to accord together. 

Indisputably, the virtuous will love virtue, and 
admire its influence, under every form and fea- 
ture ; while the vicious, in fearing, would rather 
abhor its delineations. 

That the passions do surely impress, and for a 
time distort, is readily conceded ; but that these can 
displace, or irrevocably destroy the original colour, 
or construction of forehead, eyes, nose, and mouth ; 
giving to Grecian symmetry of feature, and deli- 
cacy of contour, the broad irregularity of African 
deformity, is as surely denied ; it being equally 
true that wickedness may be born, and continue to 
exist beneath a beautiful exterior ; nor can any 
power or possession of human genius, or habitual 
goodness render the originally squalid and distort- 
ed countenance, lovely and attractive. 

Truth cannot be founded on deception, neither 
in striving to improve the understanding, and to 
amend the principles, should we expect miracles 
for ourselves, or predict prodigies for others. 

We are, individually, as God in his infinite wis- 
dom has created us ; and such shall we remain, 
with the sole exception of being instructed and 
improved, or depraved and degraded by time, ef- 
fort, or accident ; the physiognomy at a certain 
age usually expressing the sentiment, or betraying 
the passion. 



190 

Yet, since nothing in our material or mental ex- 
istence, remains stationary ; the characters which 
were written, and read, on the features yesterday, 
may be blotted out to-morrow,, or bring new ideas 
in another language to the coming observer, as in- 
definite to mature judgment, as unjust to correct 
principle. 



ON THE UNION OF OPPOSING PRO- 
PENSITIES. 



ESSAY XVUL 



If in minds of violent, or perverse feeling, there 
usually exists some " master passion which swallows 
up the rest" not unfrequently does it occur that 
two discordant propensities, meeting, in the same 
temperament, maintain an alternate vibration, with- 
out either of them becoming absolutely ascendant. 

Such are vanity and avarice ; if both happen to 
exist with extreme violence, the demands of the 
one being positively hostile to the cravings of the 
other— yet in dwelling together — these will final- 
ly constitute the less averse sensations of rapa- 
ciousness, and prodigality; which last are so of- 
ten united, as to seem incapable of total and long 
continued separation. 

And this may be accounted for, by considering 
both as secondary, rather than as primary pas- 
sions, their foundation being laid in the excess of 
individual selfishness ; which, accumulating but to 



191 

display or to dissipate, in the present rapine sees 
and enjoys the future wasting. 

Economy being the true parent of liberality, to 
reserve is to bestow; and the luxuries, which 
we refuse to ourselves, in pleasures and in super- 
fluities, may be converted into comforts for the 
more worthy, or, at least, for the more miserable. 

Neither are extravagance and sordid meanness 
of very distant relationship : In regularity consists 
order ; in order, neatness ; in neatness, purity and 
proprieties. But dissipating extravagance has no 
leisure for these, and hence, do we frequently see 
a vain action sanctioned or retrieved by a vile sub- 
terfuge, 

And yet more extraordinary is the positive un- 
ion of the cunning with the irascible, since the in- 
temperance of a passion usually betrays itself, not 
only by the countenance, and the tones of the 
voice, but in the attitudes of the body, in its ges- 
tures and in its rest ; hence the irascible is bold, 
eager and fiery ; while the dissembler appears 
soft, pliant, slow, and observing — the irascible 
strikes without deigning to hear — the cunning is 
more anxious to counteract than to control, and 
less assiduous to break down, than to undermine. 

Yet there are, in whose treacherous wrath may 
be found a consuming fire, armed with two-fold 
destruction, and in whose wrathful treachery reigns 
a self controul, which can smile and smile when 
most intent on ruin. 

There are, who regardless of integrity, and 
making falsehood the instrument of vengeance, are 
so implacable as never to pardon even an imaginary 



192 

injury— one whose voice, under fearless irritation, is 
louder than the whirlwind ; while at other . mo- 
ments, softened to a feigned tone, it never risks "the 
accent of original nature — as if to disclose a feel- 
ing, were to betray a failing. 

Take heed of those, who modulate in order to 
conceal— and look well to that countenance whose 
superior attributes of eyes, and forehead, are mark- 
ed by violence, while the lower visage always 
smiles. Observe the constant movement of the 
lip, particularly if it be thin and retreating ; for 
features such as these, even in silence, speak the 
vindictive or the treacherous, formed or fixed by 
the ruling passion of the mind. 

Yet surely, whenever the opposing propensities 
of cunning and irascibility happen to meet, the for- 
mer may be expected to obtain and preserve the 
superiority, covering itself and its associate from su- 
perficial observers ; however, when brought to the 
test, the latter may seem in violence triumphant. 

Happily such union is of rare occurrence, and of 
no less easy detection, when placed beneath the 
penetrating eye of true honour and real capacity. 



BEAUTY AND ELOQUENCE. 

ESSAY XIX. 

Call not that thought absurd, which repeats the 
assertion, that Beauty, interesting and sublime, is 
not confined exclusively to the fair morning of 



193 

life, no more than the divine gift of eloquence is 
limited to the mere verbal utterance ef noble ideas. 

In the compositions of superiour mind, in the 
melting eye of sorrow, in the brilliant smile of hap- 
piness, and above all, in the great works of God, 
there is eloquence touching to the heart, and speak- 
ing to the soul. 

Also in declining age^ on whose broad and ex- 
pansive forehead, wisdom is seen mingling with 
benevolence, whose softened and reflective eye 
speaks passion subdued, and virtue preferred, there 
is transcendant beauty. 

And not less in the mild dignity, the repose, and 
the persuasive sympathy, which, even at a late pe- 
riod of female existence, is sometimes seen united 
with an expression of goodness so tender, and of in- 
tellectual intelligence so true, and so instructive, at 
once attractive and commanding, as to excite emo- 
tions of delight not altogether dissimilar to the sen- 
timent inspired at the first glance of young and in- 
genuous loveliness. For these, by the admiration, 
respect, affection and voluntary submission which 
they inspire come to the external senses, as beings 
particularly loved, and lent by God, to whose per- 
fection they seem allied, and to whose heaven 
they are approaching. 



25 



194 



STANZAS. 

WRITTEN ON A SOCIAL VISIT TO THE RETIRED PATRIOT, JOHN ADAMS. 
LATE PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES. 



Blest Patriot ! in life's evening hour, 
Seen like the sacred sun's decline, 

Sublime, as when with sovereign power, 
The noon of glorious deeds was thine. 

Still bless'd amid thy graced retreat, 
To win the speaking glance of praise, 

To feel that love with homage sweet, 
The tribute of thy virtue pays. 

Bless'd, that to wound thy wearied ear, 
No flatterer comes, with traitor mind, 

But honour, as thy soul sincere, 

And friendship, like thine accent kind. 

How bless'd o'er ocean's yielding tides, 
Thy nation's victor-flag to see, 

Exulting — as her navy rides, 

To claim the glorious birth from thee. 

And blest that truths unerring page, 
Shall all thy great achievements give, 

Memorials of a nobler age, 
In immortality to live. 



195 
AGE, 

ESSAY XX 

There are, who, as they advance onward through 
the crowded path of life, appear wearied, gloomy, 
and unkindly ; while in others, the passionate de- 
sire of social intercourse, is seen to increase and 
expand, under the heavy burden of additional years. 

These contrasting extremes are surely born of 
the same fatal certainty, which brings resources 
lessened, and hopes obscured, or impoverished — if 
not entirely dissolved. 

There yet remains a third class, on whom life 
advances, crowned with wisdom, and graced by 
amenity ; to whom the world and its fortunes have 
neither seemed too sweet nor too bitter : for these, 
nature having been kind, and destiny not cruel, 
while life continues, it will not be lamented, nor 
lost — neither for themselves, nor to others. 

Cheerful, charitable, social, and sedate, these 
have known and loved the true pleasures of life, 
without worshipping its vanities ; and in cherish- 
ing the real virtues of the world, have neither 
tolerated its vices, rested on its delusions, nor sac- 
rificed to its votaries. 



196 
TOWN AND COUNTRY, 

ESSAY XXL 

The Country originates from God, but the City 
teas constructed by man, is an old adage ; hence Vice, 
and its inevitable companion misery, are seen 
springing up, like poisonous plants, amid pestilence 
and population. 

The splendid mansion is lighted, and the ban- 
quet prepared ; every cover of which, buries deep 
in its bosom the seeds of infirmity, or the venom 
of disease. 

Luxury having invited excess, wit, and taste, and 
talent, and genius itself, may be seen to bow be- 
neath their united influence ; an influence mighty 
— perhaps irresistible, but not of necessity irre- 
trievable ; since for the enlightened and the ho- 
nourable, repentance may arrive, and reform must 
follow. Not thus the poor menial, amid the revels 
of his midnight cellar, at whose orgies, profaneness 
never tires, and peace never comes— but to the 
oblivion of ebriety. 

Has the rich man found that precept could 
counteract example, or fair words silence the re- 
morse of dark deeds ? 

The wise and the virtuous, may possibly say to 
his conscience, " thus far shalt thou go, and no far- 
ther ;" but what shall restrain the ignorant, the 
abject, and the unreflecting? 

If the peril of cities thus encircle and degrade 
the moral being, is the mere animal existence of 



197 

man more safe where the atmosphere, moistened 
by mephitic vapours, or parching under particles 
of black dust, and without elasticity, occasions the 
fevered heart to sigh for the soft green of repose, 
with the freshness, and bloom, and beauty, of na- 
ture's sole residence ? 

Does not the hope and thought of every man's 
life, terminate the relief of retirement ? 

Does not his eye languish for verdure, and his 
heart gladden, and glow, and expand, as he moves 
among fields, and groves, and gardens ? 

What is more sweet than the warble of the 
early bird — what so kind, so honest, so welcome, 
as the greetings of the rustic upon the return of 
Spring ? 

Are not the very dreams of sleep interesting in 
proportion to their power of giving the imagina- 
tion to scenes of rural felicity? — trees, fruits, and 
flowers ? 

What idea do we annex to the word Paradise ? : 
Dinners elegant and splendid, crowded halls, and 
midnight conviviality, where the soul sickens, and 
the senses are sated to dissolution ? or verdure, 
bloom and extent, where the gifts of nature never 
fade, and those of time never weary ? 

If the moral and religious character of man be 
most pure where the temptations of vice are few, 
and the attractions of virtue with the associations 
of utility, many and marked — these preeminently 
exist, where every flower that breathes, every tree 
that bears, and every grain of corn that ripens, 
bows down the obedient heart with gratitude and 



198 

love to the great first cause of all good and of every 
benefit — while with health of body, arid yet more 
precious health of mind, anticipating longevity, the 
individual lives to contentment — declines amid com- 
forts — and dies into happiness. 

Even the essential inequalities of condition, are 
less invidious, because less perceptible, where the 
proprietor accompanies the labourer to his field, and 
assists, and consults, and sometimes even submits 
his theory to the simple wisdom of experience. 

Neither does it seem possible for the faithful 
mind and feeling heart, to live amid the kindness, 
the comfort, and the occupation, which belong to 
rural scenery, without conciliated sentiments of 
philanthropy, and forgiveness to man — piety, sub- 
mission, and devoted love to God. 

STANZAS. 



I like — it is my choice to live unseen — 
Unsought — by all whom busy eyes admire, 

To watch the brightening germ, the deepening green. 
And from the glare of vertic wealth retire. 

I like the gracious spring — the summer gay — 
The autumn, in his every bounty kind, 

The social winter's unpretending day, 

The kindly converse, and the modest mind. 

What is to me the city's revel throng, 
I love the sighing of the solemn grove, 

The soft half warble of the twilight song, 
The fragrant eve's reflective calm, I love. 



199 



If friends have passed, and sorrows found their place-, 
And the hurt mind laments its lone career, 

If lost of life the sunshine and the grace, 
Yet may one tender gleam of hope appear. 

Where the crushed thought can find a voice, and where 
Some healthful pleasure on the sick heart rise 

Some living loveliness — some buried care, 

Warm the cold cheek, and light the languid eyes ! 



SERVANTS. 

ESSAY XXIL 



If our servants depend upon us, no less do we 
rely upon them ; indeed they could generally live 
without our patronage, better than we without 
their services, since they can exist without luxuries, 
and without the attendant aid of others. 

Let the arrogant be reminded, that accident, not 
merit, has formed the difference in birth, in sta- 
tion, and in fortune ; that the menial may possibly 
have feelings of body, and sensations of mind, simi- 
lar to those of his superiour ; be as conscious of 
kindness, as afflicted by injury, as indignant at in- 
sult, and as exasperated by outrage, even as the 
most prosperous. 

We may depress those who serve, but not with 
impunity, for in some way they will certainly re- 
criminate. 

Yet, in meriting their good will, by merciful jus- 
tice in their labours, and compassionate attention 



200 

to their sickness and their sorrows, the rewards of 
observance, fidelity, and affection, will seldom be 
withheld. 

Partially responsible, in our own persons, for the 
comfort, the conduct, the manners, and the morals 
of our household ; instruction, which comes graced 
both by precept, and by example, will not always 
be lost, and under any event to ourselves must 
bring the happy consciousness of well doing, should 
that of grateful affection be refused. 

Upon the pressure of services, explanation, rea- 
son, and even apology^ would usually bring willing- 
ness, alacrity, and prompt obedience. 

In this, no allusion can be had to the very de- 
praved, but rather to those domesticks whose indi- 
vidual merits, and personal mistakes, approach and 
assimilate to our own. 

If, under the mental tuition which may have 
been lavished on our educated lives, we have fail- 
ed in the attainment of perfection — -have we a 
right, or is it reasonable to exact, or to expect that 
perfection from a being, upon whose darkened ii> 
tellect the light of moral beauty was never per- 
mitted to descend ! 

Amid the murders of St. Domingo, the only 
merciful were those slaves, upon whose bondage 
mercy had been bestowed. 

If thus, the most degraded of God's creatures 
seem alive to kindness, and are susceptible of grati- 
tude, surely the more civilized, and better instruct- 
ed, will not when weighed in the balance of moral 
feeling, always be found wanting. 



201 



THE AFRICAN CHIEF. (1) 



See how the black ship cleaves the main, 
High bounding o'er the dark blue wave, 

Re murmuring with the groans of pain, 
Deep freighted with the princely slave ! 

Did all the Gods of Afric sleep, 
Forgetful of their guardian love, 

When the white tyrants of the deep^ 
Betrayed him in the palmy grove* 

A Chief of Gambia's golden shore, 
Whose arm the band of warriors led, 

Or more — the lord of generous power, 
By whom the foodless poor were fed. 

Does not the voice of reason cry, 
Claim the first right that nature gave, 

From the red scourge of bondage fly, 
Nor deign to live a burdened slave, 

Has not his suffering offspring clung, 
Desponding round his fettered knee ; 

On his worn shoulder, weeping hung, 
And urged one effort to be free ! 

His wife by nameless wrongs subdued, 
His bosom's friend to death resigned ; 

The flinty path- way drenched in blood ; 
He saw with cold and phrenzied mind. 

Strong in despair, then sought the plain. 
To heaven was raised his stedfast eye, 

Resolved to burst the crushing chain, 
Or mid the battle's blast to die. 
26 



202 

First of his race, he led the band, 
Guardless of danger, hurling round^ 

Till by his red avenging hand, 

Full many a despot stained the ground. 

When erst Messenicfs (2) sons oppressed, 
Flew desperate to the sanguine field, 

With iron cloathed each injured breast, 
And saw the cruel Spartan yield. 

Did not the soul to heaven allied, 

With the proud heart as greatly swell. 

As when the Roman Deems died, 
Or when the Grecian victim fell.* 

Do later deeds quick rapture raise, 
The boon Batavia?s William won, 
PaoWs time-enduring praise, 
Or the yet greater Washington ! 

If these exalt thy sacred zeal, 

To hate oppression's mad controul, 

For bleeding Afric learn to feel, 

Whose Chieftain claimed a kindred soul. 

Ah, mourn the last disastrous hour, 
Lift the full eye of bootless grief, 

While victory treads the sultry shore, 
And tears from hope the captive Chief. 

While the hard race of pallid hue, 
Unpracticed in the power to feel, 

Resign him to the murderous crew, 
The horrors of the quivering wheel. 



* Leonidas, 



203 

Let sorrow bathe each blushing cheek 5 
Bend piteous o'er the tortured slave, 

Whose wrongs compassion cannot speak. 
Whose only refuge was the grave. 



IN WHAT DOES COLLOQUIAL ELO* 
QUENCE CONSIST ? 



ESSAY XXI1L 



The charm of excelling in conversation is indeed 
a magic charm — a seeming talisman, whose spell 
brings forgetfulness of every power except its 
own ; a capacity, which appearing a distinct talent, 
is, in its elements, as much the exclusive gift of na- 
ture, as any endowment of the body or the mind ; 
since there are of the great world, individuals elo- 
quent, enlightened, and instructive while conver- 
sing ; but if brought to the test, incapable of com- 
posing and combining a single page with perspi- 
cuity and elegance. 

It is equally true of some among the profound 
in science, and the powerful in poetry ; that these 
are seen and estimated in society, as the least ani- 
mated, the least communicative, and when deigning 
to converse, apparently the least amiably interesting 
of the company. The great and glorious Marlbo- 
rough must be classed among the first — the philoso- 
phic Hume, the classic Jlddison, the poetic Gold- 
smith, and the dramatic Cumberland, were deci- 
dedly of the latter, 



204 

It has thence become a question, What is Collo- 
quial Eloquence ? Is it really the adventitious boon 
of nature ? or truly the assiduous acquirement of 
art ? Are its essential attributes, a fine eye, a fine 
voice, and a fine person ; since of these, Eloquence 
is surely born, or does it principally emanate from 
the philanthropy of soul, which bestowed on a fa- 
voured few, in society opens the countenance, ex- 
pands the heart, and calls forth ideas which, like the 
electric sparks, without the collision or attraction 
of personal intercourse, would remain dormant, as 
if incapable of disclosing their brilliant qualities. 

These admitted, it follows, that a pleasing exte-? 
rior, with a limited degree of genius, and an en- 
larged portion of benevolence, are the only requi- 
sites in forming an instructive, an amiable, and a 
delightful companion. Such might be conceded, 
were superiority of mind naturally or necessarily 
opposed to beauty of feature, or to benignity of 
heart ; for the pride, the honour, and the bless- 
ing of humanity, the usual result is decidedly averse 
to such theories : exceptions surely exist ; those 
confirming the rule, since exceptions are but devia- 
tions. 

Consequently, and most frequently, the wise, the 
good, and the agreeable, have a natural affinity, by 
which it may be said, they are seemingly, if not 
inevitably associated : — such, if we may trust the 
biographer was Edmund Burke, and nearly such his 
friend and pupil Charles Fox. 

Among the many of our own nation, were the 



205 

pathetic Ames, the excelling Bayard, and the pro- 
found Parsons ; and were he not yet shedding an 
influence over that earth which he continues to 
enlighten, might be added the name of one, the 
ornament of both hemispheres, by the elder, as by 
the younger Albion, listened to and beloved. 

In the character of these, and such as these, in 
accomplishment of mind and felicity of manner, 
there might individually be traced, the dignified 
ability of a legislator, the abounding imagination 
of a poet, and the inspired genius of an orator. In 
perfect unison with a heart, ennobled by every 
virtue ; and a capacity of voice, and expression of 
countenance, whose accent and look, shed a con- 
tinually irresistable charm. 

In conversing with either of those illustrious 
men, how much more instruction, and pleasure 
were to be derived, than from the best writ-* 
ten book ? since an original, a witty, or a profound 
sentence, graced by eloquence, and uttered with 
amenity, leaves an impression as lasting as it is for- 
cible, as an immediate appeal at the same happy 
moment, to the external senses, and to the under- 
standing, waking attention, and reaching the ener- 
gy of thought, through the fine and faithful me- 
dium of eye, of ear, and of intellectual feeling. 

As far as the voice, the features, and the form, 
are implied in the charm of attractive expression, 
in their perfection, as the original boon of nature, 
these, may be out of our volition : and yet, as 
there are but few in every way destitute of at? 



206 

traction and expression, it follows that by mere 
self-discipline, any, and every one, may, in some 
manner, or by some means, appear, or really be- 
come worthy, and engaging. 

In direct confirmation, we have, probably each 
of us seen individuals, who, while unknown, or ab- 
stracted in a corner or recess, were seemingly pos- 
sessed of no expression of feature, nor any attrac- 
tion of mind ; but when brought forth in conver- 
sation, with the power of eye, of smile, and of ac- 
cent, touched and animated by the intercourse of 
soul, these became interesting in all the loveliness 
of intelligent beauty. 

Indeed, every one who sees, and feels, and 
thinks, must have been made sensible to the mys- 
terious influence of mind over person; and the 
magic of its effect upon the features and deport- 
ment. 

Even sculpture and painting, symmetry, and co^ 
lour, however excelling as such, are inadequate to 
the perfection of finished beauty, unless the soul 
appear, and speak in language of strength, delicacy, 
virtue or sorrow. 

Thus, in conversation, are the finest talents une- 
qual or incompetent, without the additional worth 
of a sensible heart, alive, and prompt in conciliat- 
ing the feelings of inferiority, in softening the as* 
perities of misfortune, and even in alleviating the 
miseries of misconduct. 

As in repressing the impulse of those passions 
which offend others, we are comparatively happy 



207 

in ourselves, so in really sympathizing with the af- 
flicted, holding every being, however situated, as 
worthy of some consideration, we are respected, and 
may be beloved, as by a mild and modest willing- 
ness to accept instruction, we, in our proper turn, 
command attention. It may in mere allusion to 
the selfish calculations be observed, that it were 
most truly selfish to be kindly regardful, in all ho- 
nour preferring one another. 

It is also believed that any individual, uniting in 
himself the excellence of fine sense, with the bles- 
sed charm of kind temper, would, in delightful 
conversation, appear to the listener and beholder, 
beautiful of person, although previously seen with 
indifference, and in some sort, with disgust. 

This enchantment of mind, if united with fas- 
cination of manner, being sufficient to transform 
the plain to the pretty, and the polished ; the hard 
featured, to the handsome and the engaging. 

In fine, as solitude, or more properly seclusion 
from our equals, must be considered an evil, infe- 
rior only to that of unrestrained dissipation, this 
evil may occasion the studious to be classed 
among the repulsive, though not less agreeably 
gifted by nature than those whom we designate 
men of the world, even as coarse features, and 
heedless habits are said to be characteristic of lite- 
rary ladies ; but with permission, it is again urged, 
that such make not the rule, but the exception, 
that is, the deviation. 



208 

Generally speaking, retirement and cultivation 
have a very opposite result, and when the man of 
mind is ungraceful, and seems unamiable, let such 
seemings be attributed— not to the high perfection 
of his nature — but rather to the necessity of his 
situation, or to the accident of his habits ; unbro- 
ken solitude having possibly shut up the avenues 
of his heart, the kindly consolations of social life 
could find no entrance there. And possessed of 
resources within himself, the man of letters, in re- 
sorting to those, feels less dependent, and conse- 
quently is less interested in pleasing. 

Yet when such men, polishing the pure gold of 
superior understanding, and giving all its lustre to 
the rare gem of genius, are seen, amid the elegant 
refinement of society, willing to arise, and desiring 
to unbend from the deep and severe research of 
theoretic and practical literature ; when the high 
elevation of mind, is united with the graceful, and 
the kind-hearted, then the most interesting, the 
most mighty, and apparently the most inspired, is 
the man of letters ; even the nearest resemblance 
of Him, in whose image he was created, and by 
whose power he lives, and moves, and holds his 
intellectual existence. 

These, and such as these, in our own native Mas- 
sachusetts, there surely have been — there are — 
and there must continue to be ; the rare and sin- 
gle perfection of their individuality, adding to its 
value, and enhancing its homage. 



209 

And yet it may remain a question, whether some 
portion of suffering, by the scourge of severe ad- 
versity, were not best calculated to mend the dis- 
position, and to regulate the deportment ; for sel- 
dom does the heart learn to sympathise with the 
afflictions of another, until it has been forced to 
bleed for its own. 

Yet misfortune must not carry its complaining 
to the social scene, for discontent is riot productive 
of kind sentiments ; as discontent is vexation, which 
is reproach, commiserated by none, because insult- 
ing to all ; but the plaintive tenderness of uncom- 
municating sorrow, as it makes the individual hum- 
ble, and in one sense dependent, fails not to render 
him more willing to hearken, than to obtrude. 
With a painful consciousness, or a fearful appre- 
hension of neglect, he is alive to every attention, 
and disposed rather to submit than to encroach ; 
for gratitude, diffidence, kindness and forbearance, 
are the legitimate offspring of dignified adversity. 

While to unaltered prosperity, sometimes, per- 
haps too often, there belongs that hilarity of mind, 
whose, assuming pride, supercilious indifference, and 
indefinite boasting, are calculated to throw a deep 
shade over society, as injurious to the brilliancy of 
thought, as destructive to the tenderness of feel- 
ing; by which the free rights of conversation are 
subverted, and discourse becomes intolerable to all, 
Avith the single exception of him, the subject and 
the object of his own elocution ; of him, who al- 
27 



210 

ways speaking, neither sees, nor hears, nor resists, 
nor regards. 

This violence of animal spirits, being usually as 
degrading to the possessor, as offending to the 
associate, provided the individual has positively 
passed the simple attractions of childhood ; for 
such violence in maturity, is seemingly the usual 
indication of personal vanity, its egotism, and its in- 
considerate rudeness ; which, with pride and plea- 
sure in its own person, is often found to have apa- 
thy, or total disregard of the less fortunate, or less 
favoured companion. 



CHARACTERISTIC PORTRAIT. 



DELINEATED FROM THE LIFE BY AN INVISIBLE SPIRIT, FOR A MAN 
OF WORTH AND GENIUS, INSCRIBED TO THE SAME, (l) 



In vain thy worth would every praise disclaim, 
And live unhallowed by the voice of fame, 
With graces that might folly's self disarm, 
With sense to give deformity a charm, 
With science, in such simple garb arrayed, 
It seems of reason but the softening shade. 

Of noble nature, generous, just and bold, 

Unbribed by pleasure, unallured by gold. 

Firm — but yet feeling. With a voice whose strain 

Flows as it falls, and cannot flow in vain ; 

Since the fine cadence of expression seems, 

Warmed by the speaking eye's electric beams, 



211 



That eye, whose varying powers such truth convey, 

So dark, yet brilliant, so serene, yet gay. 

Its glance so gentle, with such strength combined, 

It seems the moving index of the mind, 

Where all the meeting rays of genius shine, 

And touch the lips to eloquence divine. 

With every grace and every worth thy own, 
To thee — unconscious of those gifts — alone, 
The tribute of this humble lay will seem, 
As the charm'd fiction of a poet's dream. 
Or careless read, and thrown with ease aside, 
Ne'er to thy generous self in thought applied. 

Nor would the artist, rising round thy name, 
Snatch the vain homage of a transient fame. 
Ne'er wilt thou know what timid hand essays, 
To sketch thy features, and reflect their praise. 
Enough for me, that every glowing line, 
Trace the bright semblance of a form like thine ! 
True to the life thy modest merit give, 
Then rest unhonoured, and unnoticed live. 

Thee, fame will follow, nor with scorn repay, 
The growing honours of thy future day. 
Nor yet to shades with stealing step retire, 
To veil those powers which bid a world admire. 



212 

BEAUTY AND BRAVERY. 

essay xxir. 

All, even the most brutal, seem to acquire sen- 
timent, as if yielding themselves up to a sort of 
refined delicacy, taste, and veneration of heart, 
beneath the enchantment of perfect female bea^ 
ty — innocent and modest ; while to the genius of a 
youthful hero, at the moment of successful exploit, 
gentle, affable, and unassuming, exultation of mind, 
expansion of ideas, and sublimity of imagination, 
are given as by inspiration. 

This two-fold homage is felt, and bestowed, as 
if to beings of a nobler planet, whom the Almighty 
had selected, and on whom He has particularly im- 
pressed his celestial image, with the qualities of 
his own perfection. A preference, and preemi- 
nence which seems, even of necessity, to imply du- 
ration ; for beauty, intelligence, and goodness, are 
to our belief, the attributes, and the evidence of im- 
mortality. And in gazing on loveliness and glory, 
we fondly forget that these must fade and perish. 

Thus, to our erring judgment, the changeful and 
the transient, become the immutable and the endur- 
ing ; that erring judgment elevating the mere 
mortal to the present paradise of earthly immor^ 
tality. 

Yet in this seeming presumption there is utility ; 
since from the most perfect works of creation, our 



213 

thoughts may reascend to the yet more perfect 
Creator, until human homage is purified to celestial 
adoration, and worldly awe exchanged for the con- 
secrated feelings of a devotional heart. 

Indeed it seems morally impossible to love or to 
admire any valuable superiority of this earth, with- 
out congenial sentiments of piety ; hence, the most 
amiable and affectionate are, in their meekness, 
usually the most devout ; the word goodness bear- 
ing an equal affinity to moral and religious ex- 
cellence, to disposition, and to principle, to expres- 
sion, and to manner. 



STANZAS 

TO GILBERT STUART, 

ON HIS INTENDED PORTRAIT OF MRS. H. THE BEAUTIFUL WIFE OF 
ONE OF THE NAVAL HEROES OF THE U. S. 



Stuart ! I charge thy genius, try 
To catch the enchantment of that eye. 
Let her, the fairest of the fair, 
The myrtle wreath of beauty wear, 
While round her happy hero's brow, 
The laurels of a nation flow. 

Be thy creative thought obey'd, 
And call to life the featured shade. 
Scarce touch the cheek with dawning re<J, 
Soft as the leaf from roses shed ; 



214 

But for the deeper lip prepare, 
The rubied bud which ripens there. 

That neck with clustering curls entwine, 
Make all its pearly treasures thine. 
Since never to thy critic eyes, 
May there an earthly equal rise. 
I charge thy genius, let it be, 
Reflecting her, and speaking thee. 



prophecy, 

INSCRIBED TO COMMODORE JOHN RODGERS, OF THE AMERICAN 

NAVY. (1) 



Intrepid Veteran of the wave, 

Rodgers ! whose fame could terror bring 
To them, the boldest of the brave, 

The chosen of their Patriarch king. 

Veteran ! ere time's imperious sway, 
Has brought the high meridian hour, 

Or changed one jetty lock to grey, 
Or touched thee with his withering power. 

Attend, for thou art glory's son, 

Born mid the battle's blaze to shine, 

And known, when danger's deed is done, 
To make the mildest mercies thine. 

Hear what the poet-prophet knows, 
Triumph is thine, and added fame, 

Even ere the annual summer glows, 
The deadly contest meets thy claim. 



215 

The green Atlantic felt thy sway, 
As erst from dawn to fading light, 

Thy hero helm's impetuous way, 
Pursued the foe's elusive flight. 

That green Atlantic is thy field, 

There, though redoubling hosts assail ; 

The Ocean's Lord to thee shall yield, 
And thee humane in victory, hail. 



NAVAL SONG, 

FOR the public dinner, given in honour of the victory of 

COMMODORE PERRY, ON LAKE ERIE 



Hail to the youth ! whose arm achieved, 
All that the patriot muse believed ; 
When led by valour's noblest aim 
To reap the harvest field of fame. 
Or like the nation's eaglet rise, 
To suns that gleam in arctic skies. 
Powerful of pinion, soaring wide, 
Beyond the broad Atlantic tide, 
To where bleak Erie's winter star, 
Brings tempest to the front of war. 
There glory met thee — victory there 
Entwined the wreath thy temples wear, 
And there the Briton, nobly brave, 
His tributary honours gave. 
Honours, of worth the gift and claim, 
Great as the graceful conqueror's name, 
Bless'd as his mild preserving power, 
And generous as his Glory's hour. 



216 



DIRGE. 



FOR THE PUBLIC FUNERAL OF CAPTAIN LAWRENCE, 



Victim of a Nation's wrong I 
Gallant sailor ! — sufferer dear ! 

To thy pallid brow belong 

Wreaths, impearled by victory's tear. 

When the battle's blast begun, 
Were thy living features seen, 

Glorious as the risen sun, 
As his parting ray serene. 

All of heart and temper kind ; 

All of soul that seems divine, 
Worthy of a hero's mind, 

In a hero's form were thine. 

Must we on thy hearse bestow, 
Tears that speak a nation's grief, 

While that nation's peans flow, 
Grateful to her Victor chief. 

As in Freedom's cause to die, 
Was thy life's adoring prayer, 

In her trophied earth to lie, 

By the slain who slumber there. 

Never o'er her warrior's grave, 
May a nation's memory sleep, 

Glory that outlives the brave, 
Tears of angels there shall weep, 



217 



ODE, 

INSCRIBED TO MAJOR GENERAL BROWN, 60NQ.UER0R OF THE 

♦ 
NORTH. 



Graced by that brow's transcendant height, 
Will the full wreath of glory flow ; 

Like Erie's vernal waters bright, 
And stainless as his winter's snow* 

Glory, that with triumphant tread, 

Thee, and thy youthful warriors led. 

What to a nation's heart so dear, - 
As he, who for her fame would die, 

What calls a nation's generous tear, 
Like him, who bleeds in victory ! (1) 

Each sacred wound, to her a gem, 

More prized than England's diadem. 

Nor ever, on that brow sublime, 

Can the fine wreath, or fall, or fade ; 

But brightening with the breath of time, 
Be green as Erie's fragrant shade, 

When, breaking on the border war, 

Was seen to soar thy leading star. 

Thine was to prove the Briton brave. 
As the fell Indian's might to try, 

Niagara's giant dome to save, 

Or mid his thunder's dirge to die : 

And where the Minstrel-Harp is knownu, 

Thee shall the muses make their own. 



28 



218 



SONG, 

FOR THE PUBLIC CELEBRATION OF THE NATIONAL PEACE. 

Tune — Rule Britannia, 



Not for the blood-polluted car 

Wake the triumphant song of fame, 

But for the Chief who spares the war, 
Touched by a suffering people's claim. 

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free. 

The Star of Empire leads to thee. 

Let the rich laurel's baneful green 
Bright on the warrior's front appear, 

But olive in his path be seen, 

Whose genius gives the prosperous year. 

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free, 

The Star of Empire breaks on thee. 

Diffused around the sacred skies, 
The electric ray of hope extends, 

On every wing of commerce flies, 
And to the earth's green lap descends. 

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free, 

The Star of Empire beams on thee. 

Empire, that travels wide and far, 
Sheds her last glories on the west — 

Born mid the morning realms of war, 
She loves the peaceful evening best. 

Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and iree 9 

The Star of Empire rests on thee ! 

Then let the pledge of Freedom pass, 
While every Patriot bosom glows, 



219 

And o'er the elevated glass 

The amber of the vintage flows. 
Hail Columbia ! Columbia blest and free, 
The Star of Empire falls with thee! (1) 



THE STAR GAZER. 



Ah ! say ye bright inhabitants on high I 
Ye planetary travellers of the sky ! 
When the world-wearied sufferers sink to rest, 
Is their's the mansion of your sparkling breast ? 
Will there the voice of pity pour its balm, 
And her kind eye illume its heavenly charm ? 
Will soul meet soul, though forced on earth to part, 
And wake with whispered wish the dreaming heart ? 
Shall life's poor pilgrim doom'd with grief to roam, 
Find in your trembling rays a tranquil home, 
Till the last trump vibrates its kindling call, 
And the Immortal Mind encircles all ? 



THE SEXES. 

ESSAY XXV. 



To the mere superficial observer, it would seem 
that man was sent into this breathing world for the 
purpose of enjoyment— worn an for that of trial 
and of suffering. In how many instances are the 
best years of her existence marked but by sor- 
rows, and by sacrifices, of which the young and 



220 

lost affections are probably the least appreciated 
by others, the most cruel to herself. 

To man belong professions, dignities, authorities, 
and pleasures ; for woman, there remain only du- 
ties, domestic virtues, and perhaps, as the result of 
these, the happiness of tranquil submission. 

How then is it possible for her to dispense with 
the promises, the prospects, the consolations of 
Christianity ? From what other source ca nshe de- 
rive fortitude — in what other trust find remunera- 
tion — by what other hope obtain the reward of 
well-doing ? 

Even the sanctity of morals does not form a per- 
fect shield of defence against the wrongs and af- 
flictions to which woman is liable, neither does it 
bring an adequate consolation, unless founded on, 
and directed by that sentiment of the soul, which 
rejoicing in the truth, beareth all things, believeth all 
things, and hopeth all things. 

To one thus instructed, and thus disposed, the 
injuries and accidents of suffering humanity seem 
the dispensations of an all-wise and an all-merciful 
Providence, to which she bows in submission, con- 
scious that those dispensations, however severe, 
may be productive of good — lifting her subdued 
spirit beyond the faithless, the fleeting, the vexa- 
tious attractions of mere mortal life, to that whose 
eternity of bloom and of blessing shall neither fade 
nor falter. 

Thence is her's the mighty effort of moral im- 
provement, the patient meekness of a quiet tem- 



221 

per, the mental energy of a sublimed hope, the ac- 
tive benevolence of a satisfied heart : and these 
will remain until the moment of perfection shall ar- 
rive to realize that felicity, which, as human life 
has not given, neither will its last mortal agony in- 
terrupt or take away* 



PRINCE EUGENE, OF SAVOY. 

ESSJY XXVI. 
" For we are devout, when we are happy" 

Such, amid his wars and his victories, was the 
sentiment of the great and glorious Prince Eugene 
- — nor can it be questioned, that the sincere heart 
of rational piety becomes and grows more ardent 
in praise than in prayer — even more devotedly de- 
vout from ejaculation than by supplication. All men 
of genius, it is observed by a great physician, have 
the temperament of devotion. 

And who is there among believers, that upon 
the unexpected possession of any blessing, does not 
breathe out his whole soul in the unpremeditated 
transport of grateful delight to the giver of every 
good and perfect gift ? if but by exclaiming 
" thanks to God !" 

As beneath the despondency of disappointment, 
and amid the destitution of distress, we bend like 
criminals under the inflictions of an offended judge. 



222 



so in the benefactions of life, we are children shel- 
tered and cheered, upon whose destiny the rajs 
of prosperity seem to descend without a visible 
cloud; heirs, whose inheritance is made sure and 
unquestioned, as if the heaven of their hope were 
permitted to commence even in this sublunary 
world. 



CHRISTIANITY. 

ESSAY xxvn. 



The sublime simplicity of the Christian Reli- 
gion is so touching to the heart, and comes with 
such powerful appeal to the imagination, bringing 
internal and external evidence of the truth of its 
moral precept, with the inestimable benefit of its 
promised immortality, that to the enquiring and 
believing christian, it seems to demand far greater 
effort of human understanding to resist and repel 
the belief of its divine origin— more credulity, even 
under incredulity, to resist and reject its mission 
and its mercies, than to accept, and feel, and be- 
lieve, all the mysteries and miracles of Divine Re- 
velation. 

Let us, in a temporal view, also remember that 
the sacred sentiment of Christianity comes rich in 
consolations, and without a single restriction beyond 
that which the moral and civil law of the enlight- 
ened world has, even of necessity, enjoined upon 
the observance of every responsible being. 



223 



POLEMICK CONTROVERSY. 

ESSAY XXVIII. 

Submit not the sacred sentiment of Christianity 
to the level, and the levity of transient and tri- 
fling discourse, to the apathy of the luke-warm, and 
the taunts of the unbeliever. 

To proselyte such cannot surely move expecta- 
tion, but the attempt may, in fatal possibility, give 
a different bias to the sanctity of your own princi- 
ples. 

Since it appears self-evident that, ere the mind 
of man can descend from the enlightning hopes of 
revealed Religion and immortal life, to the dark 
despair of infidelity and annihilation, it must re- 
sort to such perversion of will, and exert so many 
laborious endeavours of sophistry, that this becomes 
no less tenacious of error from indolence than from 
pride — to which too often may be added the bent 
of its moral appetites. 

As it is surely possible, it were indeed most hap- 
py, for the sincere Christian to accept and feel and 
know the blessing of revealed Religion, its moral 
precept, its supporting hope, and its immortal life, 
as incontrovertable truths ; like those of the suc- 
cession of seasons, the light of the sun, or our own 
mortal existence. Facts felt and understood, above 
every earthly appeal, and beyond the approach of 
every huiiian argument 



224 



LESSONS OF LIFE. 

ESSAY XXIX. 

How many human beings look back upon the 
whole disastrous journey of their past lives, as they 
would upon the incubus of a troubled dream, of 
which self-love says they were individually the vic- 
tim, and in no way the agent; these seldom re- 
flecting, that the unguarded steps of their own er- 
ring fancies along the crooked and thorny path 
which had inadvertently been selected, probably 
led onward to the fatal abyss of their destiny. 

For if not unwary in our trust, could we com- 
plain of treachery ? 

If not falsely and vainly, and with prouder pre- 
sumption confiding in ourselves, should we so often 
be misled or mistaken? 

With more reserve in the occasional communica- 
tions of civil society, translation of meaning, mis- 
interpretation of language, and review of actions, 
given up to false report, would not rush forward 
against us, causing the memory to ache, and the 
honest mind to tremble under the weight of its own 
indignation. 

Beneath the heavy pressure of trying adversity, 
are we blindly brought forth to the more trying or- 
deal of passing opinion, and its rash judgment. Yet 
in suffering wrong, and feeling anguish, though the 
iron enter our soul^ it were better, and far more heal- 



225 

ing not to complain, and never to recriminate ; but 
as we must endure, let it be with the submission 
of patience, the silence of fortitude, the dignity 
of seclusion, and the virtue of forgiveness ; as yield- 
ing the only true Panacea of a hurt mind, the sole 
remedy for an aching heart. 

Such are the Lessons of Life, and being once 
learned, are never to be lost nor laid aside, as of no 
utility ; since the present, and the future, while 
time yet remains, are our own, and when aided by 
the effort of inclination, may have strength, and 
capacity, and power to retrieve the merely men- 
tal mistakes of passing existence. 

Recollection of ourselves will induce compas- 
sion for others, and compassion for others impel 
censure of ourselves ; and the more severe its de- 
nunciation, the more certain the rewards of peace 
and good will upon earth, 



" THIS MORTAL SHALL PUT ON 
IMMORTALITY." 

st. Paul's epistle to the corinthians. 
ESSAY XXX. 

The following Essay, which, in some sort assumes the garb of 
a Sermon, was composed on a stormy Sunday, which detain- 
ed the author from church. 

That the great truth of the soul's immortality, 
is not deducible, as a mathematical question, nor 
29 



226 

? * 

■ ■■ ■ ■ ' , ■ • ■ ;• 

j like any other problem to be searched, and solved 
by the erring faculties of man, appears most con- 
sistent with divine wisdom, commanding the mortal 
to have faith in things unseen, while in the evi- 
dences of Christianity, it sublimes that hope, which 
lives in his soul, and is with so much difficulty era- 
dicated thence ; even the hope of eternal life, 
shrinking aghast from the tenfold despair of future 
annihilation. 

Annihilation, which comes to the sensible heart, 
and its moral faculties, in a shape so cruelly ques- 
tionable, so replete with added horrors to all whom 
affliction claims, aqd prosperity has discarded, is as 
repulsive to the pride of nature, as offensive to 
virtue, and contradictory to reason — even that rea- 
son, whose intellectual light was given to direct 
our steps along the dark and intricate passage of 
this w 7 orld, not to dazzle and confound the moral 
and mental vision, leading on and bewildering to 
desolation. 

Annihilation ! a word ? a sentence ? an idea, more 
discouraging and appalling— more heartless and 
hopeless, than all the pains, and penalties, and con- 
flicting miseries of this mortal life, and only more to- 
lerable to the pure heart of humanity, than that ev- 
erlasting punishment by some supposed to have been 
intimated and combined with the promise of life 
eternal. 

The heart always feels, and the brain always 
thinks. In slumber, as in wakefulness, they are still 
alive to vibration and sensation : the subtility of 



227. 

whose animating and informing principle it is not 
given, to the gross and material senses of man to 
perceive or to analyze, any more than it is to de- 
fine and determine the causes and effects of every 
other mystery of the visible or invisible world. 
Still animating and informing, however concealed 
amid the wants of unfolding infancy — however ob- 
scured beneath the closely covering veil of exhaust- 
ed age — under all the penalties of passion, of pain, 
and of pleasure, existing and invigorating, but made 
most evident by that ardent longing after immor- 
tality I A longing and a sentiment of blessing, born 
with all who breathe the breath of man, and which 
perverted imagination can alone extirpate from the 
nerves of his brain, and the pulses of his heart: 
to which may be adduced that capacity which we 
feel within us for the enjoyment of perfect happi- 
ness never to be realized upon earth. 

Enquire of the sceptick, if it be not arraigning 
the benevolence, and the wisdom of the creating 
£rod, in having thus cast out the sufferer man, nak- 
ed and obnoxious to the fierce and cruel elements 
of this hard earth, accessible to every sin, and sur- 
rounded by every misery, until he perish, like the 
brute, without hope, and bereaved of consolation. 

What upon these terms were the object and pur- 
pose of human existence ? 

,Were it not surely better for the faithful and 
the feeling, that they had never been born ? since 
the destiny of the wisest and the best, were less 
tolerable, than that of the weak bird of the aii% 



228 

the mute fish of the ocean, or the wild beast of the 
desert ; for man, in the infirmities of his earthly 
nature, approximates in helplessness to those, with 
the additional miseries of retrospection and anticipa- 
tion, to render his condition even more deplorable 
than that of the brute animal. 

That mere transient temporal being, deprived of 
prospective happiness, is neither a boon nor a bless- 
ing, may be exemplified by the simple fact, that 
there has seldom existed a human being who would 
covet, or desire, or consent to retread every step in 
his past life, from the first efforts of unconscious 
infancy to the last endeavour of sinning and suffer- 
ing maturity, subjected to the exigencies, and plung- 
ed in the vortex of that distress, and those dangers, 
which having outlived, he cannot recall to his sensi- 
tive mind without shuddering. 

Take from earth its vital trust in the soul's 
immortality, and say, what shall restrain the craf- 
ty, or turn aside the hard-hearted ? The civil 
law cannot, and the laws of honour and of hu- 
manity do not. What shall alleviate the bitter 
pang of the dying? or protect and preserve the 
wandering intellect of the desolate and the despe- 
rate ? Not worldly friends, they have long since 
departed. Not riches — these have wasted away, 
or are unavailable. Not perfection of body and of 
mind — those are in decay, and hastening to corrup- 
tion. 

Look back upon history, and bring thence the 
death bed of the believing Addison, to the side of 



229 

that which contains the half converted apostate 
Rochester, (1) or to that of the more incorrigible 
Littleton. Compare the characteristic feelings of 
the departing christian, with those of the atrocious 
sinner and the perishing infidel. To the believer 
belong serenity, certainty and triumph ; in the 
faithless are seen doubt, despondency and anguish. 
Each had possessed, and did enjoy the prosperity 
which is of this world — genius, rank and riches. 
But as unlike in the course and the conduct of 
those adventitious gifts, as was their living hope, 
and its dying termination. 

Of whom, and from what, are the usual declaim- 
ers against Christianity? Look on the morals, and 
at the minds of these, and say, are they mild, en- 
lightened, kindly, and correct? or vulgar, or igno- 
rant, vile, or passionate ? Do they reason, or do 
they rail ? Is their argument convincing or con- 
founding — encouraging, or appalling? Are their 
precepts, or is their example such as you would se- 
lect or prefer to direct your heart, to model your 
manners, to influence your principles ? No— rather 
by their visible works have you known them. The 
bad tree has not brought forth good fruit, neither 
can the dull and deaf adder be touched and turn- 
ed by the words of the charmer, charm he never so 
wisely. 

The infidel, whose material mind comprehends 
neither part, nor feature of creation ; whose boast- 
ed reason is incapable of foreseeing, averting, or 
even explaining the course, the action, the pro- 



230 



cess, or the period of a single secret of nature-^, 
has he discovered, and will he disclose what gives 
equilibrium to the earth, or determines the ebbing 
and flowing of the tides, or the course and current 
of the winds ? What has combined attraction and 
compelled repulsion? why, and how does gravita- 
tion exist and resist ; in what manner influence the 
heavenly bodies ? Whence the separation and the 
union of a part, the harmony and perfection of the 
whole ? 

Of all that surrounds him, however inferior, and 
however minute, he is essentially ignorant, and yet 
he presumes that by searching he can find out God ; 
in the delusion of a disordered imagination, not only 
consents to lose his own soul, but is at the same 
time under the perversion of bad precept — willing 
to deprive those who have no portion in this world, 
of their salvation, and the hope of that which is to 
come. 

How infinitely unlike him, the heir of everlasting 
life ; whom the Omnipotent has made but a little 
lower than the angels in power, and in glory ; whose? 
feet rest on earth, while his eye, and his heart rise, 
to the heaven of heavens. 

In conclusion, call not these simply uttered 
thoughts, the wild sentiments of zeal, for they 
possess the calmness of moderation ; neither ac- 
cuse the author of prejudice and presumption — as 
they plead the incapacity of ignorance seeking to 
enlighten its own darkness, beneath that lowly and 
implicit ray of faith, whose power is beyond this 
world. 



231 

Should the scorner affect to expose such senti- 
ments as merely declamatory, and as containing little 
of reason, and less of evident certainty ; this is in- 
deed, and without dispute, conceded ; at the same 
time he will admit that such also is human life, 
whose consciousness we feel, and morally know to 
exist, while profound ignorance envelopes every 
clue, which might unravel the intricacies of pre- 
sent, or future destiny. 

But as the man of regularity does not, while in 
health, neglect to prepare for the morrow, since 
most probably the morrow will come ; and woe 
unto him, whose whole substance, and last hope 
are exhausted on the hour which is even now pas- 
sing away ; so while assuredly we may, and ought to 
make the utmost and the best of the present day 
of this world, its benevolent pleasures, its innocent 
delights, and its grateful affections, it should be 
without discarding the prospect and the promise of 
that morrow, which may come like the bridegroom 
in holy writ, when least expected ; preparing our- 
selves, not by personal penance, by voluntary pain, 
and by weak apprehension, but rather with the 
truth and trust of an obedient but enlightened spirit ; 
waiting for the moment of emancipation as the be- 
ginning and completion of perfect happiness. 



232 
MORTAL AND IMMORTAL. 

ADDRESSED TO ONE UNDER THE SOLICITUDE OF DOUBT. 



Yes ! Man is mortal ! round that open brow, 
Which, like the arch of promise, heaven reflected, 
Speaks the eternal mind ; even there, the dull 
Cold dews of death will hover, and those eyes, 
Whose lustre seems an ever living ray 
Of loveliness, and glory, soft pleading 
With look of eloquence, they too must fade 
And falter, languid in extinguished beauty. 
That voice, which like the harp of angels, thrills 
With no earthly strain, shall cease to vibrate, 
Or age — oblivious age — more hard than death, 
Shedding its late destruction, will chill 
The heart's fine fervour, even round the rare 
And radiant gem of genius, droop 
With an uncheerly shade, mouldering to dust 
And dark annihilation — age, in whose hour 
Man, the blest image of benignant heaven, 
He, whose majestic front and powerful form, 
Looked a descended God, the good, the wise, 
Shall rest unhallowed ; with every featured charm 
That waked the gaze, or warmed the pulse of passion, 
Lost, and delightless — save, where unquiet, 
Still the phantom memory comes musing, 
Or hovering as a dream o'er past existence. 

Thus speaks 
The fading world — not thus the plighted friend, 
Who, won and valued at life's blushing dawn, 
Still while its setting sun, through many a cloud, 
Gleams o'er the furrowed path, will love its slow 
And mild declining, and still gaze enamoured 



233 

On the parting lustre, ere calm it sink 
Beneath time's boundless ocean. 

Shall ye 
Not rest together ? and together rise 
On other worlds with renovated beams, 
Unsevered, undiminished ? 

Grows the heart sad in cold doubt pondering 

O'er life's vain promise — death's dread mystery ? 

Yet say ! thou son of immortality ! 

Lives there not one, whom thy charmed thought can 

claim, 
One ever faithful friend ? whom the hard earth, 
With poor adversity's unpitied wrongs, 
And envy's blighting breath, and falsehood's wile, 
And flattery's vain allurement^ ne'er knew 
To change, nor triumphed to divide — neither 
Shall death disjoin — *but rather to some star's 
Enlightening orb, where the All seeing eye 
Beams blessings infinite — adoring still, 
The re-united spirit will ascend, 
Waked by the kindling voice of seraphim. 

Of God and loved are they, the true in heart. 
Those solitary wanderers of the earth, 
On whom were closed her haunts of happiness ; 
But their's the heritage and home of heaven, 
With full oblivion of the ills they bore, 
Patient and plaintless, from a sinning world, 
Which on the guileless sufferer flings its glance-* 
And calls perdition, justice. 



30 



234 
THE SABBATH. 

AT A DISTANCE FROM MY HOME, AND MY CHURCH. (1) 



I stay not for the house of prayer, 
For God is glorious every where, 
In the lone wild his power is known, 
As in high Heaven's surrounded throne. 

And yet that house of prayer is dear 
To those who have no portion here, 
Dear in contrition's (2) thoughtful sigh, 
And dear in praise, the adoring eye, 
Most dear the absolving word (3) divine, 
Which falls on faults and griefs like mine ! 
Ah ! may those pleading griefs atone, 
For every fault that life has known ! 

The organ's choral peal to hear, 
Or the slow fall, soft-warbling clear, 
Till the soul feels her God is near; 
And, with the Diapason's note, 
The songs of angels seem to float, 
Or the rich voice — ne'er pour'd in vain, 
If heaven sublime the mortal strain. 

These would I claim on bended knee, 
And in the Christian's worship see 
The Christian's hope extend to me. 
Nor while the holy Pastor's prayer 
Proclaims the peace of God (4) is there, 
May the disturbing world betray 
That hope — nor fright that peace away. 

(2, Confession, (3) Absolution, (4) and Pastoral blessing of the protest- 
ant Episcopal Church. 



235 



LINES 

TO A BELOVED AND REVERED MINISTER OF THE CHRISTIAN 

CHURCH. 



What e'er of hope's religious calm I know, 
To thee, Director of my thovghts, I owe, 
Thee — sacred shepherd of a pastoral care, 
Won to thy praise, as wakened by thy prayer. 

When doomed to feel of grief the feared excess, 
And lost the dream of earthly happiness, 
I saw thee from thine height of mind descend, 
And in the sorrowing suppliant, know the friend. 

That voice, which, like a missioned angel's strain, 
Ne'er pours the fine, and favouring thought in vain ; 
Thought, born of wisdom — but as pity kind, 
Profound, yet lucid — forceful, yet refined. 

That thought — that voice — when sorrows full control 
Had, like a wintery tempest, chilled the soul, 
Could, like the vernal morning's gentle ray, 
Bring the calm promise of restoring day. 

Calm — but not brilliant — joys no more shall rise, 
But mournful seasons gleam through weeping skies, 
While thou — and heaven — a holier light bestow, 
To guide the sufferer through her path of woe, 



HYMNS. 



REANIMATION. 

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE BOSTON HUMANE SOCIETY, AND 
INTENDED BY THE AUTHOR TO BE SUNG BY THE REANIMATED 
TERSONS WALKING IN PROCESSION. 



Who from the closing shades of night, 
When the last tear of hope is shed, 

Can bid the soul return to light, 

And break the slumber of the dead ! 

No human skill that heart can warm, 
Which the cold blast of nature froze, 

Recall to life the perished form, 
The secret of the grave disclose. 

But Thou — our saving God — we know, 
Canst bless the mortal arm with power, 

To bid the stagnant pulses flow, 
The animating heat restore. 

Thy will, ere nature's tutored hand 
Could with young life these limbs unfold, 

Did the imprison'd brain expand, 
And all its countless fibres told : 

As from the dust thy forming breath 
Could the unconscious being raise. 



238 

So shall the wasted voice of death 
Wake at thy call in songs of praise, 

Since twice to die is ours' alone, 
And twice the birth of life to see ; 

Oh let us, suppliant at thy throne, 
Devote our secmd life to Thee. 



DEDICATION HYMN. 

WRITTEN AT THE REQUEST OF THE CHURCH OF WEST BOSTON* 



In vain would mortal hands prepare 

The temple's blest abode ; 
Unless, supreme in mercy there, 

Descend the accepting God. 

In vain the warbled prayer we raise 
In strains that seem divine ; 

Unless the heart's responsive praise, 
Inspiring God ! be thine. 

Such was a Mayhew's (1) soul of zeal, 

Adoring thee with fear, 
He taught the sinner's heart to feel, 

The avenging power was near. 

With milder light a Howard (2) shone, 

To him persuasion given, 
He made thy pitying promise known, 

Parent of earth, and heaven ! 

Such may your youthful Pastor prove, 
The words of life to feel, 



239 

Be his a Howard's patient love, 
A Mayhew's heavenly zeal ! 

O thou ! to whom the solar blaze 

Is but a shadowy zone, 
To thee our holiest dome we raise, 

Glorious for God alone ! 



HYMN. 

SORROW AND SUPPLICATION. 



Though dark and deep offences flow, 

Be the repentant grief sincere ; 
Pure as the falling fleece of snow, 

Shall the accepted soul appear. 
Thine is a pitying parent's care, 
God of forgiveness ! heed our prayer i 

If, pierced by many an earthly woe, 
The breaking heart its peace resign ; 

On heaven that breaking heart bestow, 
And be its healing mercies thine ! 

To thee our sorrowing thoughts we raise, 

God of compassion ! hear our praise ! 

From the bright heaven's transcendent throne 
Behold the Lord of life descend, 

Making the sentenced earth his own, 
The blessing of his love extend ! 

Saviour, and God ! from thee we claim, 

The christian's ever soaring flame ! 

The mind that rests its hope on high, 
Though dark as night, as winter cold, 



240 

Adoring heaven's protective eye, 

Shall to its glorious light unfold. 
The breath of worlds, the soul divine* 
Creative Deity ! are thine. 



HYMN. 

PRAISE AND PRAYER TO GOD.(l) 



Oh thou, who ere the lapse of time, 
Wert glorious with unfading prime ; 
Enduring God ! thy pity give, 
To me who but a moment live. 

Thy strength the elements controuls, 
And rules the axis of the poles ; 
To me, in sinful suffering weak, 
The words of pardoning mercy speak. 

Thou light of worlds ! whose quenchless ray 
Beams in the brilliant blush of day ! 
On me, in darkest error blind, 
Pervading, pour the all-seeing mind ! 

Parent of life! to whom I owe 
The nerves that thrill, the veins that glow, 
Me, sinking to the oblivious grave, 
May thy absolving goodness save. 

Immortal Being i God alone ! 
All-giving nature is thy own ; 
To Thee, her wandering race restore ^ 
Till all her breathing world adore. 



241 

HYMN. 

GLORY TO GOD, 



To thee, creative God, I owe 
All that 1 have, or hope, or know ; 
Each ray of mind, that seems to shine, 
Is but a passing gleam of thine ! 

The lustred heavens present thy zone, 
The peopled earth, thy living throne ; 
This globe, which nature holds of thee, 
Is bound by thy infinity ! 

Poor, and unblessed, not mine the power, 
To shield from want one frugal hour, 
When through thy pitying care I drew 
The bread of peace and promise too. 

How vain the pride of man appears, 
How weak the vigour of his years, 
Yet thou the vital rav hast given, 
That lights and leads his hope to heaven. 



n 



242 



TWO HYMNS, 

^Por the Celebration of the Lord's Supper, at the first Church 

in Dorchester. 



MANIFESTATION OF CHRIST TO THE GENTILES. 

Matthew, 2d. 

WRITTEN AT THE PARTICULAR REQUEST OP THE CHURCH 
AND ITS PELOVED PASTOR. 



When on the midnight of the east, 

At the dead moment of repose, 
Like hope on misery's darkened breast, 

The planet of salvation rose. 

The Shepherd, leaning o'er his flock, 
Started with broad and upward gaze ; 

Kneel' d — while the star of Bethlehem broke 
On music, wakened into praise. 

If heathen monarchs from afar 

Followed, when darkness round them spread^ 
The kindling glories of that star, 

And worshipped where its radiance led. 

Shall we, for whom that star has risen, 
For whom that Shepherd music flow'd, 

Jlegardless hear of sins forgiven, 

Nor claim the promise God bestowed { 



243 

Shall we, for whom the Saviour bled, 
Careless his banquet's blessing see ; 

Nor heed the parting word, that said, 
Remember Him, who died for thee ! 



HYMN 2d 



FOR THE LORD'S SUPPER AT THE FIRST CHURCH IN DORCHESTER* 



I* 

And hast thou, Lord to sinners given, 
Pardon, and peace, and hope, and heaven t 
To man's offending race restored 
The blessing of the absolving word ! 
While to thy table we are led, 
And pour that wine, and break that bread, 
With which the incarnate God was fed ! 
With which the incarnate God was fed ! 

ii. 

Ne'er may the earth's vain wishes raise, 
Lips hallowed by thy prayer, and praise ; 
No more the thoughts of sin surprise 
Hearts of the accepted sacrifice — 
Hearts claimed by thee, whose wakeful woes 
Gave the contending world repose ; 
Dark ere the sun of glory rose. 
Dark ere the sun of glory rose ! 

Dark ere the rays of mercy shone, 
Dark ere the gospel's light was known; 
Dark, ere in guilt and misery's hour, 
The Lord of life— of love — of power.* 



244 



The heaven-descended Saviour, gave 
Eternal victory to the grave ; 
And died— a sinning world to save, 
And died — a sinning world to save ! 



STANZAS. 



INTENDED FOR A YOUNG ECCLESIASTIC, RECENTLY ORDAINED ONE OF 
THE PASTORS OF THE ROMAN CATHOLIC CHURCH. (1) 



What is the world's unhallowed charm, 
To one whom martyr'd saints regard ; 

Calm is the pulse, the nerves are calm, 
When mortals rest on heaven's reward. 

And thou, like him whose trust (2) is thine y 
Whose genius sheds its rays on thee, 

Must every flower of earth resign, 
For treasures of eternity. 

Canst thou the fruits of pleasure scorn ! 

Wilt thou of wealth the hoards despise, 
Gazing on gifts that life adorn, 

With quiet undesiring eyes ? 

Canst thou, while others warm, grow cold, 
Wilt thou while beauty kneels be blind ; 

Though cast in Nature's finest mould — 
As if to Nature's self unkind ? 

Then, Pastor, to the heavens remove, 

Let angels thy companions be ; 
Wants of the world, its hate, its love, 

Are feelings unapproach'd by thee. 



245 

Thee — bound to duty's rigid breast, 
To penance, and its pains resign'd, 

The passions of the soul suppress'd — 
Recall'd the wandering thoughts of mind, 

While some are doubting, some admiring. 
Be thine the saintly teacher's part, 

From the unholy world retiring, 
To learn the sacrifice of heart. 

To search the path his steps have trod 9 
Thy bishop blest — whose life divine 

Moves gently onward to his God, 
The lesson of that life is thine. 



Iffi&lMHDXaB 



s> 



Eiraff $t an* mt*ut**+ 



MONODY, 



TO THE YOUNG HEROES WHO FOUGHT AND FELL UNDER GENERAL 
ST. CLAIR, IN A DESPERATE MIDNIGHT ENCOUNTER, AT THE 
MIAMI OF THE LAKES. 



Descend, bland pity ! from thy native sky, 
Come, with thy moving plaint, and melting eye ! 
The muses court thee from thy blest abode ; 
Enthroned in light — embosomed in thy God ! 
With balmy voice the wayward tidings tell, 
How the brave bled, and how lamented fell ! 
How in the earliest pride of opening bloom, 
On houseless wilds demand a sheltering tomb ! 
Far from the social tie, the kindred tear, 
Denied the relic'd urn and trophied bier. 

In the deep horrors of the midnight shade^ 
In the first onset daring valour made ; 
Each youthful warrior wastes his wearied breathy 
And woos stern honour in the grasp of death. 
Scarce seen to charm, just rising to applause, 
The blameless victim of a ruthless cause ; 
Torn like a plant beneath the early spring, 
When shivering Eurus flaps his fateful wing. 

Ah say ! what pure libations can be paid ! 
What fond atonement soothe the hovering shade $, 
In vain from frozen age the warm tears flow, 
In vain bright beauty droops in clouds of woe, 
In vain the heroes laurelled wreathes decline, 
In vain the minstrel swells the notes divine. 
They, who afar, these bootless griefs deride, 
And stain the fair Ohio^s flowery tide, (1) 
32 



250 

Who the wrong' d Indian's scanty gatherings spoil, 
Wrest his sole hope, and strip his subject soil ; 
Or like the rattling serpent of the heath, 
On the lone sleeper pour the darts of death — 
They must atone — from them the mourners claim, 
Each loved associate, and each treasured name ; 
Their cruel hands these desolations spread, 
Lost, in their cause, each martyr' d stripling bled ; 
Driven by their rage, the forest's children roam, 
And the lorn female wants a pitying home ! 
As if that wild which bounteous heaven displays, 
From orient Phoebus to his western rays — ■ 
Spread its broad breast in vain ; to them denies, 
The gifts which nature's liberal care supplies. 

Since your own hills and widening vales demand, 

The labouring ploughshare and the culturing hand, 

Why must that hand pollute the ravaged heath, 

That forming ploughshare wage the deeds of death. 

Though wakening reason join her forceful strain, 

Still shall dejected mercy plead in vain ; 

Or shall Columbia hear the rude behest, 

And clasp her murderers to her bleeding breast, 

Shall she with impious hand, and ruffian knife, 

From her first offspring snatch the claims of life, 

To nature's sons with tyrant rage deny, 

The woody mountain, and the covering sky ! 

Ah no — each sainted shade indignant bends, 

Bares his deep wounds, his pallid arm extends ; 

Return, he cries, ere every hope is lost, 

Ohio claims you on his ozier coast ; 

Return ; though late, your treacherous wish disclaim r 

Awake to justice, and arise to fame ; 

No more with blood the blushing soil deface, 

And spare the patient, suffering, injured race, 

To you our lacerated spirits turn, 

From you demand a monumental Urn, 



251 

For you our grievous wounds uncovered lie % 

Meet the hard earth, and brave the drenching sky, 

While the sick moon unveils her pensive brow, 

And the drear night-bird swells the peal of woe. 

Still the lorn shade its lurid vigil keeps, 

And oe>r the unburied bones in hopeless horror weeps. 

Nor crimson war, nor valour's glittering wreath, 
To the pale corse recall the quivering breath ; 
'Tis the mild power of seraph peace alone 
Can charm each grief, and every wrong atone ; 
Her healing hand shall waft oblivion round, 
Pouring her opiates through each gushing wound. 
O'er the cold ghost a mantling Olive spread, 
And shade the sod that laps the glorious dead. 



EPITAPH, 

ON DOCTOR ANDRE CARENTE. (l) 



Here to his kindred earth by ills resigned, 
Carente, the doubting son of science lies-, 

In this cold cell is fixed that faultering mind ? 
Inflamed by wisdom, but yet never wise, 

If, in the hour his traitorous fortune smiled. 
Averse he viewed the worldly art to save; 

At last by fortune and her sons beguiled, 
He lived to ask that bread he wasteful gave. 

If shades of error cloud his guideless day, 
As no divinity but chance he knew ; 

Seek not to draw the hiding veil away ; 

But own by chance full many a suffering grew, 



252 

When chilled by scorn, with broken-hearted care, 
Lonely, and lost, he heaved his trembling breath ; 

One friend he found — blest refuge of despair, — 
One only kind remembering friend in death. 



ELEGIAC LINES, 

ip THE MEMORY OF MRS. A. WIFE OF THE HONOURABLE 

JOHN C. J. 



Ah ! what avails, that round her angel face, 
Transcendant beauty breathed its sottened grace, 
Or what avails the friend-surrounded bier, 
Or e'en a matchless husband's hopeless tear ! 

That fancy, whence the pencilled scenes arose, 
That hand by which the finished portrait glows, 
That touch, which taught the chorded notes to roll, 
That voice whose warbling chained the captive soul. 
Unconscious sleep ! regardless of the care 
That grieving tells in life, how prized they were. 
The purer spirit wings its promised way — 
While hovering seraphs guard the beauteous clay. 

Bright as the rose, which sinks beneath the storm, 
Fair as the gathered lily's polished form ; 
Lamented shade I for thee shall memory mourn, 
And living praise thy early grave adorn. 

With every grace the soul of sense to move, 
Caress'd by fortune, happy in thy love ; 
Say, when did fate with equal lustre shine, 
Qr what blest husband knew a joy like tfyine ! 



253 

Won by his worth, with thy perfections charmed, 
Endeared by hope, with mutual fondness warmed ; 
Each opening morn increasing pleasure knew, 
In scenes of bliss the closing day withdrew. 

Great God of Wisdom ! on thy just decree, 
What impious mortal dare to question thee ! 
Why the blest Abba yields her valued breath, 
While loathing wretches court the grasp of death ? 
While some whom hard affliction calls her own, 
Beneath this tedious weight of being groan. 
In silence breathe the unregarded sigh, 
And cloud with secret tears the melting eye ; 
Or who the hidden springs of fate can find, 
What ruling power instructs the searching mind, 
Why merit droops, and prosperous vice beguiles, 
Why pity grieves, and rude oppression smiles; 
And while the living miscreant laughs at woe, 
O'er Beauty's urn the tears of Virtue flow ! 



TO THE MEMORY 



GF THE HONOURABLE MR. BOWDOIN, LATE GOVERNOR AND COM- 
MANDER IN CHIEF OF THE STATE OF MASSACHUSETTS. 



Ah, BowboiN, if thy sainted shade, 
Still wander round the cheerless glade ; 
Or mid the rich and sparkling sky, 
Can heed the muses plaintive sigh ; 
Can see a grateful country mourn, 
See genius deck thy laurelled urn : 
While those thy secret bounty fed — 
The tear of hopeless sorrow shed ; 



254 

Ah, yet extend thy patriot care, 
Yet heed a faithful people's prayer : 
Some kindred soul of heavenly fire, 
With thy departed worth inspire ; 
Give him to scan the comet's way, 
To watch the chaste moon's bashful ray, 
To mark where milky myriads flow, 
And see the distant planets glow ; 
O'er the blue arch undazzled gaze, 
Searching the sun's meridian blaze ; 
And round the vast perfected whole, 

Find ONE BRIGHT ORB OF GLORY (1) roll. 

Then all those sacred virtues blend, 
Which formed the husband, father, friend. 
The liberal praise, the cautious blame, 
The charity concealed from fame, 
Each worth, each lustre of thy faultless mind, 
And with another Bowdoin grace mankind. 



AUX MANES DE JULIE, 

FROM THE GERMAN POETRY OF A SCIENTIFIC FRIEND, THUS REN- 
DERED INTO FRENCH. 



Quel Astre radieux est maintenant ta demeure, 
O douce Julie! et dans quelle sphere celeste, reten- 
tiront un jour, devant le ciel, les cries de joie, de 
Famitie que s'y trouvent. Les larmes qu'on verse 
pour toi arroseraient les fleurs d'un printemps. 
Jeune vierge, sois a nous, si tu peux, un messager 



255 

de l'Eternite ! et que ta touchante voix, un jour, 
appelle ceux que tu aimes ! 

THUS IMITATED IN ENGLISH, TO THE MEMORY OF JULIA, 
AGED FOURTEEN YEARS. 

Sweet Julia ! say what radiant star on high, 
Wafts thy young graces through the glowing sky ; 
From what harmonious sphere, immortal fair, 
Will that charmed voice the tones of comfort bear, 
With sister seraphs chaunt the touching strain, 
And give to hope thine angel-form again ? 
The tears that unavailing fondness pours, 
Shall meet the spring and bathe its fairest flowers. 
Emblems of thee — now withering in thy tomb — 
So fresh in youth, so fragrant in thy bloom. 

Celestial scenes will every wish employ, 
Till thou, and heaven, restore a mother's joy, 
Yet — if thou canst — her sleepless cares controul, 
Glance thy light vision on her clouded soul, 
The veil of grief with holiest touch remove, 
And point the path of reunited love. 



memento, 

FOR MY INFANT, WHO LIVED BUT EIGHTEEN HOURS, 



As the pure snow-drop, child of April tears, 

Shook by the rough wind's desolating breath- 
Scarce o'er the chilly sod its low head rears, 
And trembling dies upon the parent heath. 



256 

So my lost boy> arrayed in fancy's charm^ 
Just born to mourn — with premature decay 

To the cold tyrant stretched his feeble arms^ 
And struggling sighed his little life away. 

As not in vain the early snow-drop rose, 

Though short its date, and hard the withering gale j 
Since its pale bloom ethereal balm bestows, 

And cheers with vernal hope the wasted vale* 

My perished child, dear pledge of many a pain ! 

Torn from this ruffian world, in yon bright sphere, 
Joins with awakened voice the cherub train, 

And pours his sweet breath on a mother's ear. 

Kind dreams of morn his fairy phantom bring, 

And floating tones of extasy impart, 
Soft as when Seraphs strike the heavenly string 

To charm the settled sorrow of the heart. 



MONODY, 



TO THE MEMORY OF GENERAL HENRY KNOX, WHO DIED EST 
OCTOBER, 1806. (1) 



With all of nature's gift, and fortune's claim, 

A soul of honour, and a life of fame ; 

A warrior-chief in victory's field renowned, 

A statesman with the wreath of virtue crowned — 

Such, Knox, wert thou ! Shall truth's immortal strain. 

Recall thy deeds, and plead their worth in vain ! 

Sacred and sainted mid yon radiant sky, 

In vain shall friendship breathe her holiest sigh ? 

\ 



257 

Where is that pity known thy life to share, 
Softening the beams by glory blazoned there. 
Lost like thy form, with that unconscious grown. 
Of all thy fine affections called their own ! 
Ne'er shall that smile its speaking charm impart, 
To win the angered passions from the heart : 
No more that voice iike melting music flow, 
Sweet in its sadness o'er another's woe. 
But round thy tomb despair will live to weep, 
Cold as the cearments of thy marble sleep. 

Yet wert thou blest ! — ere age with chill delay 
Quenched of the fervid mind its sacred ray — 
Heaven called thee hence — -nor nature's late decline. 
Saw thy full lustred fame forbear to shine. 
Called thee with patriot spirits earth-ap proved, 
With heroes by the Queen of Ocean ioved. 
While on that world of waters, victory gave, 
Immortal Nelson gained a glorious grave* 
When Pitt, the soul of Albion, reached the skies, 
And saw the rival of his greatness rise* 
Fox, loved of fame, an empire's guide and boast. 
His voice sublime mid wondering plaudits lost 
These, like thyself — for God-like deeds admired, 
In the ripe Autumn of their years expired* 
Hence shall each kindred genius blend with thine. 
And mingling in collected radiance shine. 

Honoured in life, in death to memory dear, 
Not hopeless falls the tributary tear. 
For what is death, but life's beginning hour, 
The poor man's glory, and the good man's power \ 
Replete with every bliss we taste below, 
Source of the hope we feel, the truth we know. 
Then not for thee, blessed shade ! the grief be given ; 
For thee, beloved on earth — approved in heaven^ 
33 



258 



Thy cherished worth shall still retain the power, 
To soothe the lonely — bless the social hour, 
And thy remembered virtues light the gloom 
That death's deep night has gathered o'er thy tomb, 



RECOLLECTIONS, 



TO THE MEMORY OF THEOPHILUS PARSONS, LATE CHIEF JUSTICE 
OF THE S. J. C. OF MASSACHUSETTS. 



Is then that mind, whose all-perceptive eye, 

Seem'd an imparted light of Deity. 

That mind which from the sordid earth could soar 

To worlds where angels tremble and adore ; 

Is that extinguished ? — As the sun's low ray, 

By the cold twilight cloud is borne away — 

Or like that sun, in heaven's congenial clime, 

Again to wake, with energy sublime ! 

Hid, but not lost, the undying part shall rise, 

More pure, more just, more hallowed, and more wise. 

And as on earth unequalled, and alone, 

With God's own light the immortal genius shone. 

Restored to heaven, with saints and angel's there, 

He breathes the blessing, lifts the guardian prayer. 

That eye, whose glance, by guileless nature taught, 
Spoke the full feeling, beamed the unbounded thought. 
That smile assuring^ whose protective charm, 
Fell on the timid heart, like pity's balm, 
With temper kind as heaven, whose cheering glow, 
Shed its warm beams on every shade of woe : 
That wit spontaneous, whose attractive ease, 
Careless of pleasing — never failed to please. 



259 

That moral wisdom winning, yet severe, 
Which speechless wonder bent entranced to hear. 
These shall the melancholy thought restore, 
And weep to think, they live to charm no more. 

Admired ! beloved ! to earth's affections lost, 
But throned in heaven, beyond the seraph host ? 
Angel ! or saint ! ah deign our griefs to see, 
Nor let the wanderer memory stray from thee* 



STANZAS, 



UrON SEEING AN IMPERFECT SKETCH DESIGNED FROM MEMORY, FOR 
THE POWERFUL FEATURES OF THE LATE AND EVER LAMENTED 
PROFESSOR MC KEAN, 



How vain the painter's classic aim, 
To keep that clear, and glorious eye, 

Whose rays from heaven's most hallowed flame, 
Touched close on immortality. 

As vain the peaceful smile to trace, 
Which warm in life's affections grew, 

And poured of soul a speaking grace, 
To every mental feeling true. 

Perfection not to man is given, 

But thou Mc Kean, so kindly shone, 

That loved by earth, and blessed by heaven, 
Both claimed thy genius as their own. 

Frail were the wish, that soaring mind, 
These features to God's image near, 

Like the winged Eagle, earth confined, 
Were longer lent to languish here* 



260 



LAMENTATIONS 

OF AN UNFORTUNATE MOTHER, OVER THE TOMB OF HER 
ONLY SON. (1) 



w Oh lost !" forever lost — thy mother's eyes, 
No more shall see thy morn of hope arise, 
No more for her its day resplendent shine, 
But grief eternal rule like wrath divine, 
Blotting from earth's drear scene each mental ray 
That chased the phantom of despair away. 

When fortune saw me all her gifts resign, 
No murmur wakened, for thy love was mine ; 
Though hard her frown, and many a blow severe 
Called to thy brilliant eye the clouding tear ; 
Yet poor the boon that waits on fortunes store, 
Since the full pampered heart still pines for more . 

Distress on thee, my son, her mildews shed, 
To blight the laurel blooming round thy head ; 
Chilled by her grasp, but not to wrongs resigned, 
For warm as summer glowed thine active mind ; 
No syren pleasure, potent to betray, 
Ere lured thy lone and studious hours away. 

But science on thy young attractions smiled, 
For genius gave thee birth, and called thee child, 
The painter's touch, the minstrel's art divine, 
With many a charm of polished life were thine, 
And thine the soul sublime, too ardent wrought, 
The impetuous feeling, and the burst of thought ; 
Strong and resistless — to the few alone, 
Was all the treasure of thy being known. 



261 

€old was its fate — yet o'er thy wrongs supreme 
Young Genius rose — with rich and radiant beam, 
While the fine eye, to that and nature true, 
Spoke all that mind inspired, or sorrow knew. 

Poor Boy ! I thought thou o'er my urn would'st weep,! 
And grieving yield me to the tomb's last sleep ; 
Nor, in thy dawn of years, when hope was gay, 
Like heaven's bright arch of promise, melt away— - 
Lost, like a sun-beam in the spring's chill hours, 
And transient as the garden's earliest flowers : 
But dearer thou than rays that morn illume, 
And lovelier far than nature's vernal bloom ; 
These, when the storm has past, again return, 
But what shall wake thy deep death-slumbering urn? 
What but the voice of heaven, that strain divine, 
Which bids the trembling earth its trust resign. 
Then the bold genius, and the feelings wild, 
No more to wrongs and woes shall bear my child ; 
But that warm heart to generous pity known, 
Which all the grieved affections made their own, 
With the pure essence of that brain of fire, 
Shall to a Seraph's fervid flame aspire ; 
And angels with arch-angels, pleased to find, 
The blest expression of thy kindred mind ; 
Charming from memory's thought its earthly pain, 
Will give thee to thy mother's soul again. 



262 



STANZAS, 

INDUCED BY THE CIRCUMSTANCE OF A SINGLE DROP OF RAIN, HAV- 
ING FALLEN AS THE AUTHOR WAS ENTERING THE UNDER AISLE 
OF THE CHAPEL CONSECRATED TO THE DEAD. 



Soft was the drop, and seemed to flow 
From heaven — as if an angels eye, 

Gazing upon this form of woe, 
Had melted to its murmured sigh. 

Cold was the tear, and cold it fell, 

Where never hope, nor life, shall warm ; 

Since sepulchred those graces dwell — 

Which gave to life and hope their charm t 

Region of tears ! thy echoing aisle, 
No strains but grief has ever known, 

Fearful it freezes nature's smile, 
And looks on misery alone ! 

Why does the desperate mourner call 
On thee-— in many an accent wild ? 

Deaf is thy cold and clammy wall- 
Dead as the passions of her child. 

Yet the sweet seraph peace is here, 

Lost to the world, she dwells with thee ; 

And gives from heaven an angel's tear, 
To shed its pitying dew on me. 

Spirit of him my soul adored ! 

When will this bosom rest with thine ! 
No more thy living woes deplored, 

Shalt thou and happiness be mine ? 



263 



STANZAS, 

•CCA8I0NED BY THE QUESTION OF A FRIEND, M WHAT HAS PRE- 
SERVED YOU?" 



When I saw my youth's best treasure, 

Life's tirst blessing yield his breath- 
Did my breaking heart resign him, 
.To the mouldering caves of death ? 

No — I watched him, fondly watched him, 
With a mother's longing eye ; 

Gazing on each tranquil feature, 
Till it seemed too dear to die. (1) 

Eight lorn days of speechless horror, 
Morning saw my steps return ; 

And the glooms of evening found me, 
Weeping o'er the unburied urn. 

Still as cold as Parian marble, 

Were those features, resting mild — 

But this dying heart felt colder, 
Than the bosom of its child. 

Dyings but not yet to perish, 

Heaven in pity saw its woes, 
And on calm'd religion resting, 

Bid the murmurer find repose. 

Hovering, like an angel o'er me, 
When of life was lost the care— 

She, the child of hope, sustained me, 
She has saved me from despair. 



264 



LINES 

ENCLOSING THE BEAUTIFUL RINGLETS OF MY SON, 



Those hazle ringlets, nature's boon designed, 
So oft around my parting fingers twined, 
Shorn from their brow of beauty, seem to say, 
His praise shall live, bright and unchanged as they. 



APOSTROPHE, 

TO THE MEMORY OF MY BELOVED DAGHTER CHARLOTTE, 

FRAGMENT. 



Daughter adored ! and good, and fair, 
As the unsinning angels were ! 
No more the heaven that filled thine eyes ? 
Shall o'er a mother's sorrows rise, 
Like the blue morning's soften'd ray, 
To charm the clouds of grief away. 
That mother lived — and lives — to see 
The gift of God recall'd in thee : 
Despair's deep voice appall'd to hear, 
Slow whisp'ring that thou art not near. 
Despair's chill glance on anguish borne, 
To feel and know thy life is gone. 

Ne'er did the tender morning shine 
On deeds of filial love like thine ; 



265 

Nor to the western world was known 
A beauty lovelier than thine own : 
Genius was thine, and taste refined, 
And gentle temper's feeling mind ; 
Temper, whose fine unclouded mien 
Shone constant, gracious, kind, serene. 
Ah ! what does earth's dim orb supply. 
Like heavenly temper's angel eye ! 
Or the discordant world afford 
Of music, like her answering word ! 

Child of my sorrowing soul ! to me 

Thou wert an earthly deity ! 

Hope round thine infant pillow played, 

Hope in thine early grave is laid ; 

A mother's hope, and lost despair, 

Has led his haunting spectres there. 
* % ******* 



LINES, 

TO THOSE WHO HAVE SAID " YOU ARE TRANQUIL." 



If calm the forehead's silent air, 
As peace with folded wing were there ; 
Nor tear betray the electric pain, 
Which rushes on the trembling brain : 
Nor does the speaking sigh impart 
What dies within the closing heart ; 
As firm the unfaultering voice may seem, 
And clear the cold eye's transient gleam : 
Yet has the secret sufferer known 
To dwell on hope forever flown, 
34 



266 

And that cold eye been wont to weep, 
While memory rose — to murder sleep. 
Even thus the rainbow's arch of flame. 
In token of deliverance came ! 
Though garb'd in nature's tranquil form, 
Its home the cloud, its birth the storm ; 
While bruised, the drooping groves declare, 
How hard the thunder's bolt struck there. 

Could glance, or moan, or murmur, show 

That selfish, solitary woe, 

To one unwandering thought confined 

A hermit on the desert mind, 

A wreck, from life's full ocean toss'd, 

In the hard storm of anguish lost, 

Yet to the careless world appears, 

Nor breathed in sighs, nor drown'd in tears : 

Thus o'er the mansion — home of death, 
The chapel curves the polish'd dome, 

Where music pours his angel breath, 
And beauty brings her mortal bloom, 
With mingling praise, and melting prayer, 
As heaven and earth were meeting there. 
Mindless of ruin's rapid power, 

Heed they, that near sepulchral gloom ? 
Where late his sceptred arm was laid 
On glory's wreath and beauty's flower, 
Causing their blended tints to fade, 

In the long winter of the tomb, 

Heed they, in youth's beginning year, 
The threatening blast, cold-hovering near? 
Heed they mid life's meridian glow 
How fast the falling shadows flow, 
Which evening's sullen hours bestow ? 

If sunk the earth's vain hope appear, 
Again its ray may dawn, and rise 

Smiles mingle with the grieving tear, 
But cherish'd sorrow never dies. 



26T 



INVOCATION, 

TO THE SHADES OF MY ANCESTORS, WENTWORTH AND APTHOR*. 



" A proud inheritance I claim. 

In all their sufferings, all their fame" 

Montgomery. 



Shadows of Men, revered and great ! 
Or good ! or crushed by adverse fate ! 
O'er your devoted offspring bend, 
To her who seeks no earthly friend ! 
Mission'd of God, descend ! 

Let her imploring tear and sigh, 
Yield to the thought that ye are nigh ; 
Guarding with blest paternal eye, 
The action of her woes. 

Your height, your fall, your wrongs declare, 
And show how bless'd, how cursed ye were, 
Prisoned in earth's domains ; 

Let Strafford, ( 1 ) chosen of a king, 
The features of his history bring, 
Expressive, as when warm in life, 
Ere the red block and severing knife, 
His monarch's fearful faith bestows, 
How bright in opening morn he rose, 
How dark at fate's tremendous close, 
Alternate joys and pains. 

And ye, the blooming brothers, (2) come ? 
Victims of youth's untimely doom ; 



268 

This to the elements a prey, 
That flung the gem of life away, 
With an unholy hand. 

Ah ! he his ills thy lesson made, 
And though enclosed by misery's shade, 
Await thy God's command. 

Distant and dark — by graves divided — far 
From her, who rose his morning's earliest star ; 
Her, whose sweet eyes of love, and polish'd mind, 
Were to the young and graceful Wentworth kind, 
Impious — in plighted faith of heart, to share 
The unpermitted chalice of despair. 

Not theirs the altar's consecrated flame, 

Which soars to Heaven in honor, peace and fame, 

Whose chasten'd light is seen on earth to glow, 

Like moon-beams o'er a sculptur'd angels brow ; 

But theirs a meteor-plague which threatning shone, 

Till every fluttering wing of fear had flown ; 

A meteor-plague, whose inauspicious ray 

Bore all the blooming health of hope away. 

# # * # 

* * * * 

That blessing which the dream of passion sought, 

Waked to the frantic extasy of thought. 

Opposed — in life with fated fondness grew, 

Opposed — in dust no mingling union knew. 

And thence, in ever parted tombs they lie, 

Martyrs of morbid love's insanity. 

Love, the betrayer ! near whose breath of fire, 

The calm affections tremble — or retire — 

So in the Land of Ice, mid stainless snows, 

His boiling strength the dangerous Geyser (1) show 

Powerful in mischief — bold in beauty soars 

From shuddering earth, to heaven's receding towers. 

Pervading allj but not in all the same, 

Here pale with frost, there blushing red with flame. 



269 



Chained to the rock, or lifted to the skies, 
Round his white brow benignant rainbows rise ; 
Hope in their smiles — can hope that breast reveal, 
Whose hidden fires a secret foe conceal ? 
Whose baneful deeds, like Geyser's fountain prove, 
A heart that burns, or boils, with hate or love. 
Destructive powers ! if fiends on earth are known, 
Their reign is passion — and its height their throne. 

Apthorp ! my proud paternal line, 

The homage of my soul is thine, 

Where Cambria's minstrel-realm appears 

A beauty — or in smiles — or tears. 

In scenes, where rich the sun-beam glows, 

And swift the sleepless torrent flows, 

Beneath the mountain's weight of snows — 

The fathers of my sires, had there 

Birth — blessings — griefs, and sepulchre ; 

A favoured race, to fortune known, 

Still on the rude armorial stone, 

Mid the cold ivy's trembling green, 

The annals of their deeds are seen. 

By Lion-hearted Richard led, 

How bold they fought, how fearless bled — 

How erst the shield, whose crested pride, 

A royal gift— in crimson dyed, — 

Had graced that Christian Warrior's (2) side, 

Whose sons, in youth's romantic day, 

Tempting rude ocean's dangerous sway, 

To the far land of promise came, 

Not forced by want, nor driven by shame ; 

But to endearing fancy true, 

Fancy, that loves and woos the distant and the new. 

These, to the young and lovely shore, 

The glories of their lineage bore, 

Talent, and taste, and truth severe, 

And honour, as existence dear ; 



270 

With hurrying passions unconfined, 
Was pity's oft relenting mind ; 
And bounty's glowing heart so warm. 
And beauty of celestial form. (3) 

The wanderers reared God's dome of prayer, 
And rest in sculptured memory there. 
Soon to that honour sanctioned tomb, 
The remnant of the race shall come, 
Cold, slumbering by its relics lay, 
Unconscious of the kindred clay. 

Shades op my Fathers ! great, or good, 
This heart yet glorying in your blood, 
Pleads for that peace which earth denies, 
The living branch, whose foliage young, 
Mid your deep-rooted virtues sprung ; 
With a good angel's guardian care, 
Shield from the night-frost of despair, 
Driven by life's storms, its torn leaf lies, 
Immortal, full in bloom to rise. 
Sires of a firm unbroken line, 
Source of my life — your heaven is mine; 



NOTES 



Note (1) Page 30. 

TO THE MANSION OF MY ANCESTORS. 

This Mansion, as enlarged and embellished by its honoured 
proprietor, the late Charles Apthorp, Esq. was then, that is, 
about the middle of the Eighteenth Century, said to be the scene 
of every elegance, and the abode of every virtue. Now, its 
beautiful hall of entrance, arches, sculpture, and base-relief; 
the grand stair-case, and its highly finished saloon, have been 
removed, or partitioned off, to accommodate the bank and its 
dependencies. 

Note (2) Page 30. 
" The Noble (2) there were nobly led." 
Lord Amherst, and Sir Peter Warren, commanders of the 
then army and navy, were not only received at the generous 
ball and banquet, but also to the continued hospitality of the 
Mansion, during their temporary residence in Boston ; the 
honoured proprietor being pay-master to, and contractor fofc 
the royal army and navy. 

Note (3) Page 30. 
" While the Crusader's shield (3) was seen." 
The shield of the Apthorp arms, which bearing a mullet 
or spur, in heraldry, with truly Welsh prepossession, the fa- 
mily were fondly, perhaps foolishly, wont to trace back to th? 
Crusades. 



272 



Note (4) Page 30. 

" Where my proud fathers (4) infant eyes?'' 

In this Mansion, the father of the author, with seventeen 
other children, were born; sixteen of them at the particular 
request of the noble guests, were permitted to pass through 
the well peopled and well furnished apartments. Those 
children, all, and without exception, healthy and handsome, 
have perished, and for the most part, before the meridian of 
their days. 

Note (5) Page 31. 
" All, all are lost — (5) the bright, the fair" 

Not one of their numerous descendants remains, who was 
in existence before the death of the venerated parent, and to 
tradition alone are we indebted for this memorial of true ex- 
cellence and generous hospitality. 

The beautiful mother, also of Welsh origin, was grand- 
daughter to Sir James Lloyd, a name which even to the present 
day, has preserved its pristine honours, unsullied, and un- 
diminished. 

Finally, the author presumes to hope that her Lines to the 
Mansion, will not be attributed to pride, or any self-sufficiency 
whatever, but rather to feelings of true filial piety, and grate- 
ful commemoration. 

Note(1) Page 32. 

TO THE KINDEST OF THE KIND, (l) 

Truly these childish Lines were not then seen by the indi- 
vidual to whom they were inscribed in very early youth. 

Note (1) Page 105. 
" And a walled acre (1) awes the subject world" 
Alluding to the well known origin of Rome. 



273 



Note (2) Page 106. 

" Egypt t from whom immortal hope (2) arose." 

The Egyptians were the first who asserted the immortality 
of the soul; the belief of which was clearly indicated by the 
doctrine of the Metempsychosis. 

Note (3) Page 106. 
f Where great Sesostris (3) rears his trophied bust" 
In all the countries subjugated by this extraordinary hero, 
he erected pillars or statues of himself with this inscription, 
u I Sesostris, King of Kings, and Lord of Lords, subdued this 
Country by the power of my arms ;" and probably no conqueror 
has ever displayed so many monuments of victorious greatness. 

Note (4) Page 106, 
" No more Osiris (4) guards those wasted plains." 
Osiris, the inventor of the plough, was worshipped under 
the form of an Ox, whom they denominated the God Apis. 

Note (5) Page 106. 
4; No pean^d Isis (5) strews the golden grains" 
" I Isis, wife of king Osiris, am she, who found corn for the 
use of man." 

Note, Page 106. 

66 Nerved with majestic strength — and graced with form 
divine." 
None could be compared to Xerxes in Strength — In Beauty 
— and in Stature. Gillies' 1 Greece. 

Note (6) Page 107. 
u Chief of her choice, her Great Civilian (6) reigns." 
This merely required the name of John Adams, and is now 
rendered superfluous, by the previous notice of the Odes 
having been written during his presidency. 

35 



274 

Note (1) Page 127. 

" For all the life of genius breathes in thee." (1) 

The father of this fortunate child, Mr. Featherstone Hall, 
a man of science and profound learning, is said to be a li- 
neal descendant of one of the Scotch heroes ; of the great Sir 
Walter. The beautiful and accomplished mother, daughter 
to the late Judge Duane, of the S. J. C. of New York, was, 
and surely is, lovely in person, amiable in heart, and en- 
lightened in understanding ; nor shall it be forgotten, that at a 
period of ill health, and great mental distress, the present 
writer was indebted to this eloquent beauty for consolations of 
voice, and refinement of mind and manner, whose tender and 
unaffected charm has seldom been equalled, and can never be 
excelled. 

Note (1) Page 135. 

" How many the branches, how mighty the tree." (1) 

This may be said to apply literally, and metaphorically ; 
literally, in allusion to that genealogical tree, which every 
Welsh gentleman is sure to possess, and to preserve ; meta- 
phorically, as to the living branches of a family, nearly all 
lost in the deep of the tomb. 

Note (2) Page 135. 

EPISTLE TO THEOPHILUS PARSONS. 

This great and good man, the ornament of his profession, 
of his country, and of the world, having, in the highest judi- 
cial station, enlightened by his wisdom and instructed by his 
virtues but for the short term of eight years, was then, by 
divine will, suddenly called from life, its usefulness, and its 
honours, before disease or decay had weakened the faculties of 
his unequalled mind, or touched the kind temper of his feel- 
ing heart. 

In commemoration of him who cannot die, an obituary de- 
lineation will be found on these pages ; a delineation inade- 
quate, but expressive of the gratitude which favours and 



275 

benefits had inspired, and will perpetuate with the existence 
of memory and mind in the author. 

Note (3) Page 136. 

" Guide of the laws (3) an empire' *s boon and boast" 

This should have been Page 135, Note (2), as fully ex- 
plained by " The highest judicial station." 

Note (1) Page 139. 
u Whether the helm of state (1) to guide" 

As a member of the General States Convention. 

Note (2) Page 139. 
46 Or bid the storm of war subside" (2) 
As one of the Commissioners for establishing the Treaty of 
Peace. 

Note (3) Page 139. 

" From Afric catch the falling tear" (3) 

As President of the First American Society for the Aboli* 
tion of the Slave Trade. 

Note (4) Page 139. 
u O'er the stern courts of law preside" (4) 

As Chief Justice of the S. J. Court of the United States. 

These Lines were first impelled by the circumstance of the 
Honourable Mr. Jay's having lost his Election to the Chair of 
Government, through the manoeuvres of an exasperated Party 
counteracting the Choice of the People — which choice was 
indisputably established at the next Trial. 

Note (1) Page 150. 

" And such does Europe's scourge (1) appear." 

Napoleon Bonaparte, at that period the scourge and des- 
troyer of southern Europe. 



276 



The following", extracted from a recently published work^ 
has only to substitute the name of Napoleon Bonaparte for 
that of the Roman, and the similitude is complete. 

" Aaron Burr, the Julius Cesar of America, was the most 
astonishing man of his age ; a man that inspired spirit into 
every thing material or immaterial with which he came in 
contact ; a man who went about working treason, tampering 
with the bravest and stoutest hearts of our country, in the 
light of heaven, with an audacity unlike any thing ever seen 
in the history of disaffection , setting our laws at defiance — 
mocking at our strength — doing that, which now he has fail- 
ed, has been called madness ; yet for which all the talent, the 
learning, and the power of the country were unable to pun- 
ish him ! A man, that poured his spirit of revolt, like a flood 
of fire, into every heart that he came near — disturbing the 
oldest and most cautious of our veterans ; one that seemed to 
put himself, life and name, into the power of every human 
creature that he approached ; yet with all this seeming, he 
was never in the power of mortal man, as Wilkinson and 
Eaton can shew ; a man that suffered the legal wisdom of the 
whole country to array itself against him, without trembling, 
and then, just put out enough of his own strength and no 
more, to defeat and shame them. 

" Since the time of the Roman, there has never been a 
man upon this earth so like Julius Cesar, as Aaron Burr." 

Note (2) Page 151. 
u Ambition by the bard defined" (2) 
" Ambition first sprung from your blest abodes, 
" The glorious fault of Angels and of Gods." 

Note (1) Page 172. 
'" Yet to that fame new honours (1) give." 
See the national monument erected over the relicks of 
General Montgomery at New York, in 1819. 

Note (1) Page 176. 

INSCRIBED TO THE ORATOR OF THE CENTURY. (1) 

These Stanzas were written at the immediate moment of 



J£77 

reading the address of the orator to the pilgrims, upon the 
completion of the second century of their establishment on 
the Rock of Plymouth. 

Note (1) Page 201. 

THE AFRICAN CHIEF. (1) 

Taken in arms, fighting for his freedom, and inhumanly 
butchered by his conquerors ! This affecting event was fully 
delineated in the various Gazettes of that period. 

Note (2) Page 202. 
u When erst MessenicSs (2) sons oppressed" 
The Messenians being conquered by the Spartans, and ag- 
reeably to the custom of the age, the miserable remnant led 
into slavery, under these circumstances were so inhumanly 
oppressed, that rising, and united in arms, they seized upon 
a Spartan fortress, and after innumerable injuries, inflicted 
and reciprocated, finally obtained their freedom. 

Note (1) Page 210. 

CHARACTERISTIC PORTRAIT. (1) 

The above delineation was intended for a diplomatic 
character, recently returned to the retirement of his own 
country, with a determination, it was said, not again to em- 
ploy his splendid talents in her public service, either at home 
or abroad. 

It is also proper to add, even as it is true— that though 
originally intended for the public papers, this was never print- 
ed until now. The possible impropriety which might have 
been attached to the motives of the author, had she been 
traced and discovered, restraining her temerity. 

Note (1) Page 214. 

PROPHECY INSCRIBED TO COMMODORE JOHN RODGERS. (l) 

This prophecy was literally fulfilled by the energy of arm, 
and of mind, victoriously displayed in the heroic defence by 
Commodore Rodgers, of the city of Baltimore. 



278 

Note (1) Page 21 7. 

44 Like him who bleeds in victory" (1) 

Ere recovered from his dangerous wounds, Major General 
Brown was seen returning to war and to victory. 

Note (1) Page 219. 

44 The star of Empire falls with thee. (1) 

It will probably be perceived that the chorus of the above 
song, is in allusion to Bishop Berkley's prophecy : — 

44 Westward the course of Empire bends its way, 
44 The four first acts already past, 
The fifth shall close the drama of the day, 
Time's noblest offspring is the last." 



u 



Note (1) Page 229. 

The atrocious Lord Rochester was converted to Christiani- 
ty by Bishop Burnet ; at the time, and during the sufferings 
of an incurable decline of constitution. Upon which occa- 
sion, the horrors of his wretched mind, and the reproaches 
ol his awakened conscience, seem property to illustrate the 
contrast of religious trust and error. 

The younger Lord Lyttleton died as he had lived, wretched 
in principles, miserable in conduct, hopeless in sickness, and 
appalled in death ; which was accelerated by the famous dream 
of the lady, and the bird, &c. &c. and most probably made 
more immediate by the proud and painful suppression of his 
desperate feelings, occasioning one of the ventricles of the 
heart to burst, by which he expired. 

Note (1) Page 234. 

the sabbath. (1) 

These lines were ocasioned by the sarcastic question of a 
fellow traveller, " Can you worship out of the pale of your 
own church ?" 



279 



Note(1) Page 238. 

44 Such was a Mayhew^s (1) soul of zeal." 

Mayhew and Howard were Divines established to preach 
the Gospel in the former Sanctuary, the Reverend Mr. Lowell, 
a young man amiable and eloquent, was the ordained Pastor 
of the new Church. — These three Stanzas being local and per' 
sonal, might be omitted upon any occasion for which the re- 
maining lines might be made applicable. 

Note (1) Page 240. 

PRAISE AND TRAYER TO GOD. (1) 

In this Hymn, the Author has in part attempted to imitate 
the sublime adoration of the North American Indian, express- 
ed in the following Prayer • 

" Oh Eternal, have mercy upon me — because I am passing 
44 away ! — O Infinite — because I am but a speck ! — Oh most 
u Mighty — because I am weak ! — Oh Source of Life — because 
44 I draw nigh to the Grave — Oh, Omniscient — because I am in 
u darkness ! — Oh All-Bounteous — because I am poor ! — Oh 
" All-Sufficient — because I am nothing !" 

Note (1) Page 244. 

intended for a young ecclesiastic, recently ordained one of 
the pastors of the roman catholic church. (1) 

In apology — It is observed, that these Stanzas were im- 
mediate upon hearing a Sermon by the young Priest, enforc- 
ing " the Duty of Penance"— on which very solemn occasion 
some among the more youthful females appearing to be rather 
too much charmed, it was thought that the injunction, seem- 
ingly intended for the Pastor, might not be wholly lost upon 
the Penitent 

Note (2) Page 244. 
" And thou like him whose trust (2) is thine." 
In allusion t# the enlightened and truly Right Reverend 



280 



Bishop Cheverus, at this time Primate of the Roman Catho- 
lic Churches over the N. E. States. 

By every Sect, and Order of Christians, is this eloquent 
Prelate admixed, approved, and beloved. 

Note (1) Page 240. 

u And stain the fair Ohio's Jiowery tide." (1) 

The War, productive of these ever-lamented disasters, was 
said to have been instigated by the rapacious cruelty of the 
more Savage White Settlers, who encroaching upon the Indian 
Territory, carried Desolation and Death even to the Habita- 
tion of their Women — finally exasperating the Sufferers to 
Deeds of reciprocated Violence, which deeds were termina- 
ted by a War, as fatal to Honour as to Innocence. 

Note (1) Page 251. 

ON DOCTOR ANDRE CARENTE. (l) 

This Soi-disant materialist, with an Infidel head, but a feel- 
ing heart ; wasteful in prosperity, and discarded in distress, 
was finally suffered to perish, amid the bitterness of unremem- 
bered services and unregarded poverty ; having experienced 
the contrasted extremes of prodigal affluence, and deserted 
indigence. 

Note (1) Page 254. 

"Find one bright orb of glory (1) ro//." 

Mr. Bowdoin, in his Astronomical observations, supported 
the Theory of an " all surrounding orb." This Theory has 
generated discussion and occasioned doubt, as not reducible to 
Philosophic certainty ; yet it is generally allowed to indicate 
original Thought and profound Investigation. 

Note (1) Page 256. 

TO THE MEMORY OF GENERAL KNOX, WHO DIED IN OCTOBER, 

1806. (1) 
The year that deprived his family, his friends and his coun- 



281 

try of the society, the virtues, and the services of the heroic 
and amiable Knox ; the three great Luminaries of the Elder 
World were likewise extinguished. 

Note (1) Page 258, 

NOTE. 

In Page 135 of this work, will be seen an Epistle to Theo- 
philus Parsons. — But too soon after that was written, were the 
distressed feelings of the Author called to substitute an Obi- 
tuary of this Great and Good Man — whom she there seemed 
to admonish. 

Note (1) Page 260. 

LAMENTATIONS OF AN UNFORTUNATE MOTHER, OVER THE TOMB OF 
HER ONLY SON. (1) 

Charles Ward Apthorp Morton expired of a Dropsy of the 
Brain, a disease always accompanied by premature but ex- 
traordinary capacity. Its fatal termination was accelerated 
by sedentary habits and intense study. In his very early 
childhood he appeared a prodigy of genius ; — and entered the 
University at thirteen — where he gave the fairest promise of 
excellence in Science and the Fine Arts ; for although en- 
dowed by nature with a taste for the Sister Powers of Music, 
Painting and Poetry ; from his devotion to the more honoura- 
ble pursuits of Science, he relinquished these but a short 
time previous to his last illness. His heart was noble and 
sincere ; abounding with passions, and affections. His integri- 
ty unblemished and his death productive of self-despair to 
his unfortunate Mother. 

At his early age having already made Improvements in 
Medical Electricity ; for which he received a Certificate from 
the President and Professors of Harvard University. But 
his whole existence was that of suffering, owing to the ori- 
ginal feebleness of his constitution and the energetic sensi- 
bility of bis mind. 



36 



282 



Note (1) Page 263. 

Till it seemed too dear to die. (1) 

This is no poetical fiction. When it was thought incum- 
bent to perform the last pious obligation, resigning the dead 
to the sepulchre of his maternal Ancestors, under the despe- 
rate possibility that life was not wholly extinguished, his de- 
solate Mother continued to visit the melancholy aisle, in 
which his remains were deposited, until even that last Hope 
was extinguished — and " Another and a better world" alone 
remains to console her incurable afflictions. 

Note, Page 264. 
" Daughter adored ! and good, and fair ^ 

That this melancholy Apostrophe, and in addition to this — - 
the Stanzas in page 67 — was and were correctly just, and free 
from the exaggeration of maternal enthusiasm, the Author 
appeals to the recollections of hundreds — perhaps thousands 
— of living individuals, who have seen Charlotte Morton in 
the dawn of fifteen, and these will surely admit, that a Beauty 
more brilliant — a Temper more celestial — and a Mind more 
enriched by Talents and by Virtues, had never met observa- 
tion, nor inspired affection. 

A complexion of the most delicate bloom, large dark eyes 
of enchanting blue, long ringlets of flaxen gold, in which no 
tint of the auburn nor approach to the red were seen, a smile 
seemingly of itself perfect beauty — an ivory neck and shoul- 
ders, in symmetry a model for sculpture — sweetness, softness, 
elegance — a musician, a painter, a poet. 

This beautiful and highly gifted being was married early, 
and perished in the morning of her days, the victim of cares, 
and of climate — leaving her affectionate Mother the sole 
consolation of remembering that the two last happy years 
of her life were passed under the parental roof, until within 
three months of her decease, when at the request of her 
absent husband she voluntarily followed his fortunes, and be- 
came the affectionate victim of conjugal duty. 



283 

Note, Page 265. 

" A mother's hope, and lost despair, 
Has led his haunting spectres there?'' 

DtC ifc tk il£ "$£. ^t *fc iJd ifc 

This fragment was immediately impelled by reading her 
last faithfully fond Letter to a dear and distressed Mother. 

Note (1) Page 267. 
" Let Strafford, (1) chosen of a king?' 

Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, the Minister, and fa- 
vourite of Charles the First, sacrificed by that Monarch to 
his own personal safety — was beheaded near the end of the 
reign. Charles, in his last moments, declared that he suffer- 
ed justly for having given up the Earl of Strafford to popular 
fury. — See Hume's History. 

The near Relations of this Nobleman were the founders of 
the American Family of Wentworth. This family being pre- 
sumptive heirs to the now extinct Title of that Earldom of 
Strafford. 

Note (2) Page 267. 
u And ye, the blooming brothers, (2) come?' 

These were Henry and Samuel Wentworth, the maternal 
uncles of the Author, both perished before they had attained 
the age of 20. The first, on a northern voyage of curiosity 
and improvement, was entangled amid floating masses of ice, 
and in that situation expired along with the whole ship's 
company, passengers and seamen. 

His young brother, Samuel Wentworth, having been invit- 
ed to England by his noble relatives, was under the patronage 
of those, admitted as student at the Temple ; at which period 
he first met Miss Lane, the object of his honourable passion,, 
and the cause of his fatal misfortunes, the daughter of a great 
commercial house of that period. Her large inheritance, by 
her father's will, made dependent on the pleasure of her 



284 



mercantile brother, to the aristocracy of whose wealth, 
young Wentworth could only oppose nobility of birth, accom- 
plishment of mind and beauty of person, possessions which the 
man of commerce held as nothing, compared with the supe- 
rior treasures of monied interest. 

Consequently the love was prohibited, and the lover ba- 
nished from his mistress ; who though closely imprisoned in 
her own apartment, found means to preserve an epistolary 
connection. The correspondence encreasing the enthusiasm 
of restricted passion, until every possible hope of their union 
being extinguished, a deadly vial was obtained, and the con- 
tents, equally divided, were at one desperate moment swal- 
lowed by both. Their last desire, of being buried in the 
same grave, was denied. 

These frantic and too affectionate lovers, finished the short 
career of their miseries on the birth day of Wentworth, be- 
ing that which completed the nineteeth year of his age. And 
it is not irrelevant to add, that the brother of the lady lived 
to lose his immense possessions, and died desolate and dis- 
tressed ; at which period, we trust, repentance came, and for- 
giveness was awarded. 

Note (1) Page 268. 

u His boiling strength the dangerous Geyser (1) shows. 

The Great Geyser, or Boiling Fountain of Iceland, ejects a 
stream of boiling water, sometimes more than a hundred feet 
upward, wrapped in foam — and encircled by beautiful rain- 
bows, burying itself beneath the rock, and ascending the skies 
in constant alternation — the effect of subterranean fires some- 
times giving the appearance of deep red or green to parts of 
the Geyser. — See Sir G. S. Mackenzie. Also, I think ; Dr. 
Henderson, the last Traveller who has published Observations 
on the Great Geyser, 



285 



Note, Page 269. 
u Apthorp ! my proud paternal line" 

John, the founder of the transatlantic race of Apthorp, was 
a man of taste and talent in the Fine Arts ; particularly those 
of Painting and Architecture. A taste and talent, which has 
in some instance been transmitted to his descendants even of 
the fifth generation. 

An ardent imagination, and an ambitious desire of mental 
improvement, led him from his native country of Wales. 
And in England, he saw, loved, and married, Miss Ward, a 
celebrated beauty, with a large fortune, whose Portrait, by 
Sir Peter Lely, yet remains with her descendant. This por- 
trait is distinguished by the long dark eyes, which that artist 
preferred and made fashionable. 

The qualities of both parents live, and are conspicuous in 
some of their descendants. A highly respectable individual 
of these, whose superiority of mind may possibly disdain 
such recollections, was, in his minority, so transcendantly 
handsome, that upon a Tour through the Southern States, he 
was generally designated " The Eastern Angel." As he now 
is, the Genius of Canova, might design that form as a model 
for the sublime statue of melancholy, since his fortunes have 
fallen — like those of his race — a voluntary sacrifice to the 
best sentiments, and the noblest feelings of humanity, while 
domestic bereavements coming yet nearer to his gracious 
heart have left it the prey of sorrow. 

Charles Bulfinch, Esq. of Washington, at this time, the 
National Architect, is one more evidence of the inestimable 

happiness of a good descent. 

* * 

Note (4) Page 270. 

« The wanderers reared God's dome of prayer ', 
And rest in sculptured memory there" (4) 

The present Stone Chapel — originally the King's Chapel — 
founded by Royalty, was finished by the generosity of indi- 
viduals. Charles Apthorp, Esq. the son of John, gave 5000/, 



286 



sterling, a very large sum for the Provinces at that period^ 
about the middle of the eighteenth century. 

His Marble Monument with a very fine Latin Inscription, 
by his Son, still remains in the Chapel, which Monument 
covers the Tomb of the truly noble-minded race of Apthorp. 
Hqw erst the shield, whose crested pride. 

The Crest, if not the whole Armorial Bearing, is thought 
or said to have been conferred upon the Battle Field by 
Richard. 



8l#Ql0tt£ 



In Apology for what may properly be termed 
a mere medley of mind, in Thoughts and Frag- 
ments; it seems honest to explain how written, 
and why published. 

Far from having originally presumed to attempt 
regulating the capacities, or amending the hearts 
of others ; the sole view of the author has been, 
to correct and console her own. 

A series of disappointments, with distress, cruel- 
ly aggravated by the premature death of very dear 
children, having left that stagnation of heart, and 
that pulsation of brain, which sometimes seems to 
precede the most deplorable of human miseries ; to 
avert the apprehended possibility of this, the aid 
of constant occupation, and continued self-examina- 
tion, was resorted to ; that self-examination inducing 
recollection, and impelling resolution, as to cause, 
effect, and remedy. 

The early morning and the late evening, given 
to the question of her own faults, many mistakes, 
and continued afflictions, the result of such enquiry 
was committed to fragments of paper, with the 
single intent of being referred to, and acted upon 



288 

by the author's solitary self, who — not of the worlds 
yet stood among them — and met the frowns, and 
passed the smiles of the many, and had Thoughts, 
and essayed to write of them also. 

Finally, the accumulation of Fragments occa- 
sioning difficulty of selection, these were arranged 
by the author, and slowly transcribed into one 
manuscript — sufficient for a book — that is, sufficient 
in pages — but probably insufficient in every other 
requisite ; this was her belief, and this belief virtu- 
ally confirmed by the opinion of some to whom a 
very small portion of the work had been timidly 
communicated. 

And yet, under every personal and particular 
discouragement, the author could think that those 
poor fragments, which had done so much for the 
dispositions of her own mind, might, under similar 
exigencies, effect something for the benefit of 
others ; and with this impression stampt on her 
heart, she had the temerity to apply to one, who 
honours and hallows the cloth that he wears, and by 
the unerring genius of that one, was countenanced, 
favoured, and encouraged, and did venture — even 
amid existing fears, appalling predictions, and con- 
scious inefficiency, to hope, and to ask for patro- 
nage — and that patronage was awarded by the 
gentle and the generous ; and if ultimately suppos- 
ed to have been lavished upon the dull, and the 
incompetent, will surely not be thrown away upon 
the assuming and the ungrateful. 

S. W. M. 



289 



ERRATA. 

The following Lines, having been omitted in their proper 
place, solely by the fault of the Author, are here inserted, as 
seemingly essential to illustrate the historical series of ex- 
treme events, compelled by the power and progress of Time. 

These Lines the Reader will, if he please, supply, p. 106. 

u Where great Sesostris rears his trophied bust 
A mouldering pageant and an empty nameP 

Whose harness'd steeds — a mournful band ! — 

Were monarchs, conquered by his hand ! 

The trappings, which their shoulders bore, 

Once royal robes, were stiff with gore 

3 Till Time, a friend to Misery true, 

The victim, — or the victor, slew ; 

And held the car, or heavM the chain, 

Of this the triumph — that the pain — 

The car — the chain — whose blended sway 

The happy and the hurt obey. 

Egypt*) whose meads the barbarous Turk deflowers, 

While the wild Arab mocks her murdered powers, 

Assisting thee to blight her fading fame. 



Page 130, Line 16 — for faithfulness read faithlessness. 

" 142, " 6 — for warm read moist. 

" 155, " 8 — for fired read proud. 

" 178, " 15 — for bringing read bring. 



37 



&tt*HW«lt*0* 



John Adams, late President of the United States. 
His Excellency John Brooks, Governor of Massachusetts. 
His Honor William Phillips, Lieutenant Governor — 6 copies. 
Hon. Isaac Parker, Chief Justice Supreme Judicial Court. 
Hon. Rufus King, late Minister to the Court of St. James. 
Hon. G. W. Erving, late Minister to the Court of Madrid — 4 cop. 
Hon. William Eustis, late Minister to the Hague. 



&2rtite& 



Names, 

Mrs. Ann Adams, 
Mrs. E. Andrews, 
Mrs. H. P. Andrews, 
Mrs. Catharine Baxter, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Baylies, 
Mrs. Ann Beale, 
Mrs. Mary B. Bush, 
Mrs. Abby C. Cobb, 
Mrs. Catharine Codman, 
Mrs. Caroline Cooke, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Crocker, 
Mrs. S. Bowdoin Dearborn, 
Mrs. Derby, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Gray, 
Mrs. Frances Gray, 
Mrs. Elizabeth Greenleaf, 



Places. 

Quincy. 

Dorchester. 

Boston. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Quincy. 

Taunton. 

Taunton. 

Quincy. 

Dorchester. 

Taunton. 

Boston. 

Boston. 

Dorchester. 

Quincy. 



Copies, 



292 



Karnes. 


Places. Copi 


ies. 


Mrs. Mary Greenleaf, 


Quincy. 




Mrs. Harriet L. Hodges, 


Taunton. 




Mrs. Humphreys, 


Boston. 




Mrs. Manigault, 


Philadelphia. 


2 


Mrs. Hannah Miller, 


Quincy. 


2 


Mrs. Jonathan Phillips, 


Boston. 


2 


Mrs. Eliza S. Quincy, 


Quincy. 


2 


Mrs. R. Ruggles, 


Dorchester, 




Mrs. Charlotte L. Russell, 


Boston. 




Mrs. Mary Sargent, 


Quincy. 




Mrs. Elizabeth Ann Sproat, 


Taunton. 




Mrs. Ann Storer, 


Boston. 




Mrs. H. Swan, 


Dorchester. 




Mrs. Jonathan Warren, 


Boston. 




Miss H. Weld, 


Dorchester. 




Mrs. Abigail West, 


Taunton. 




Mrs. Elizabeth 0. Williams, 


Taunton. 




Mrs. Julia C. Wingate, 


Portland. 




©Jeutiemen* 






Nathaniel Amory, 


Boston. 




Jonathan Amory, Esq. 


Boston. 




W T . B. Andrews, 


Boston. 




Nathaniel Appleton, Esq. 


Boston. 




Jonathan T. Apthorp, Esq. 


Boston. 




George Henry Apthorp, Esq. 


Quincy. 




Thomas Bartlett, Esq. 


Boston. 




George Bates, Esq. 


Boston. 




Reverend Alfred L. Baury, 


Newton. 


2 


Hon. William Baylies, 


W. Bridgewater. 




James Bird, Jr. Esq. 


Charlestown. 




Abijah Bigelow, Esq. 


Worcester. 




George Blake, Esq. 


Boston. 




William H. Boardman, Esq. 


Boston. 




Charles Bradbury, Esq. 


Boston. 




Alden Bradford, Esq. 


Boston. 





293 



Names. 


Places. 


Copies. 


Hon. Peter C. Brooks, 


Boston. 




Edward Brooks, Esq. 


Boston. 




Benjamin Bussey, Esq. 


Roxbury. 


2 


J. Bellows, Esq. 


Boston. 




John Callender, Esq. 


Boston. 




Matthew Carey, Esq. 


Philadelphia. 


6 


Carey & Lea, 


Philadelphia. 


12 


Right Rev. Bishop Cheverus, 


Boston. 




Josiah P. Cooke, Esq. 


Boston. 




Joseph Coolidge, Esq. 


Boston. 


4 


Thomas B. Coolidge, Esq. 


Boston. 




Cornelius Coolidge, Esq. 


Dorchester. 




Allen Crocker, Esq. 


Boston. 




David Crocker, Esq. 


Barnstable. 




Hon. John Davis, 


Boston. 




William Davis, Esq. 


Plymouth. 




Samuel Davis, Esq. 


Plymouth. 




Isaac P. Davis, Esq. 


Boston. 




John B. Davis, Esq. 


Boston. 




John Davis, Esq. 


Barnstable. 




William Dehon, Esq. 


Boston. 




Edmund Dwight, Esq. 


Boston. 




Hon. Thomas Dawes, 


Boston. 




William H. Eliot, Esq. 


Boston. 




Rev. Dr. James Freeman, 


Boston. 




Robert Freeman, jr. Esq. 


Boston. 




Russell Freeman, Esq. 


Sandwich. 




John Fox, Esq. 


Boston. 




Rev. Dr. J. S. J. Gardiner, 


.Boston. 




Luther Gay, Esq. 


Cambridge. 




Elbridge Gerry, Esq. 


Boston. 




Hon. Christopher Gore, 


Waltham. 




Benjamin Guild, Esq. 


Boston. 




Joseph Hall, Esq. 


Boston. 




Ralph Haskins, Esq. 


Boston, 




John Head, jr. Esq. 


Boston. 




Barnabas Hedge, Esq. 


Plymouth. 





294 



Names. 


Places. Copies. 


Henry Higginson, Esq. 


Boston. 


Benjamin P. Homer, Esq. 


Boston. 


John Hubbard, Esq. 


Boston. 


Hon. Jonathan Hunnewell, 


Boston. 


Patrick T. Jackson, Esq. 


Boston. 


William Jackson, Esq. 


Plymouth. 


Thomas Jackson, Esq. 


Plymouth. 


William Jackson, jr. Esq. 


Plymouth. 


Hon. John Coffin Jones, 


Boston. 


Thomas K. Jones, Esq. 


Roxbury. 


Edward Jones, Esq. 


Boston. 


Hon. James Lloyd, 


Boston. 


Abbott Lawrence, Esq. 


Boston. 


Edward Q,. Lowell, 


Barnstable. 


Dr. James Mann, 


Boston. 


Hon. Jonathan Mason, 


Boston. 


William P. Mason, Esq, 


Boston. 


Nymphas Marston, Esq. 


Barnstable. 


William Minot, Esq. 


Boston. 


Hon. Harrison G. Otis, 


Boston. 


Samuel Parkman, Esq. 


Boston. 


Samuel Parkman, jr. Esq. 


Boston. 


Daniel Parkman, Esq. 


Boston. 


D. Parker, jr. Esq. 


Boston. 


Nehemiah Parsons, Esq. 


Boston. 


William Payne, Esq. 


Boston. 


Hon. Thomas H. Perkins, 


Boston. t 


Thomas Perkins, Esq. 


Boston. 


Thomas H. Perkins, jr. Esq. 


Boston. 


John Phelps, Esq. 


Guildford, Vt 


John Pickering, L.L.D. 


Salem. 


Hon. Josiah Quincy, 


Boston. 


Hon. Thomas Rotch, 


New Bedford. 


Hon. Benjamin Russell, 


Boston. 


William Sawyer, Esq. 


Boston. 


Hon. Lemuel Shaw, 


Boston. 


R. G. Shaw, Esq. 


Boston. 



295 



Names. 
Edward Q,. Sewall, Esq. 
William Skinner, Esq. 
N. G. Snelling, Esq. 
Samuel Snelling, Esq. 
Hon. Lewis Strong, 
Hon. Russell Sturgis, 
Hon. William Sullivan, 
Gen. William H. Sumner, 
Charles P. Sumner, Esq. 
Samuel Swett, Esq. 
J. H. Swett, Esq. 
William Shiminin, Esq. 
Charles Taylor, Esq. 
Rev. William Taylor, 
Dr. James Thatcher, 
J3on. Levi Thaxter, 
Isaiah Thomas, Esq. 
John B. Thomas, Esq. 
John Thomas, Esq. 
Israel Thorndike, jr. Esq. 
Hon. Joseph Tilden, 
Alexander Townsend Esq. 
G. Tuckerman, Esq. 
Henry Warren, Esq. 
Thomas Welsh, jr. Esq. 
James White, Esq. 
John D. Williams, Esq. 
Hon. Thomas L. Winthrop, 



Places. 
Barnstable. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Northampton 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Plymouth. 
Watertown, 
Worcester. 
Plymouth. 
Plymouth. 
Boston. 
Boston- 
Boston. 
Boston. 
Plymouth. 
Boston. 
Dorchester. 
Boston. 
Boston. 



Copies. 



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